Any Other Road Trip
by P.A.W.07
Summary: Bobby had always reminded them that a hunter adapts to the situation or dies, especially since Castiel sent Sam and Dean away for their own 'good'. Well, maybe he had sent them a little too far away. Now they better adapt and quickly. "Sammy I don't think we are in Kansas anymore!" SN6/AtLA1.
1. Prequel

Any Other Road Trip: Bobby had always reminded them that a hunter adapts to the situation or dies especially since Castiel sent Sam and Dean away for their own 'good'. Well, maybe he had sent them too far, "Sammy I don't think we are in Kansas anymore!" SN6/AtLA1

Rating: Teen for swearing … mostly from Dean. XD

Disclaimer: If only, if only, the plot bunny sings.

Beta –read by I**sis the Sphinx. **

Image: 'Two Obsessions Merge' by **GreenAppleFreak** on Deviantart.

…

Of salt and silver and blood,

A supernatural flood,

Two brothers caught and captured

In an angel's cruel rapture

Were sent away

Unknown if forever or a day.

…

"This fucking sucks!" Dean yelled as he kicked a nearby rock, the thing seeming to fly out of sight.

Sam, who was checking his phone for the fifteenth time without a signal bar in sight, stopped staring at the sky. He slowly turned to look at his brother, who now had his jacket thrown over one shoulder due to the heat, survival bag on the other shoulder. Well, it was a survival bag for a normal day in their life with things like salt, stakes, guns, and silver. So, it was a supernatural survival pack with one canteen of what _had_ been holy water but was now drinking water.

The canteen had long since been emptied since they started this fiasco about a day and a half ago, wandering like two _id'jits_, not a soul or building in sight. At least that was what Bobby would have said.

"Not a single bar," murmured Sam, forlorn, his eyes scanning the terrain. He was hoping to see a body of water in the distance instead of rocky grassland.

"That son of a bitch! Just zapping us with his angel voodoo saying it was for our own good. I swear if my baby has one scratch on her when we get back from…" Dean stalled in his banter to look around once and bark, "Wherever the hell we are! I'll stick my foot so far up Castiel's trench coat covered ass that he will see Christmas!"

Sam, who had been looking at the sun's placement to try and figure out an idea of what time it was, since the sun was high in the sky and his watch said 3:12a.m, sighed. Wherever the angel had placed them, it was on the other side of the world.

Putting his cell phone away Sam asked, "What does that even mean, Dean?"

Dean, who had stopped yelling at the heavens long enough to glare at his sibling, barked, "What do you want from me, Sam? It's been over a day since I've seen a paved road for that matter a gas station. If I don't get something with cholesterol in me soon I might not make it. So higher brain functions are the least of my worries right now."

"There's some protein bars in the … "

"No! Sam I need real food. Man food," added the older hunter almost childishly as he waved his hand about. "I need artery clogging goodness like a Twinkie or heaven forbid meat. Bloody red and once alive kind of meat. Not that lettuce crap you love so much."

Shaking his head at the other's drama, the more intellectual brother added, "We have bigger problems than Twinkies, Dean."

"Yeah, like what is that trench-coated idiot doing with Crowley? I doubt it's for soup and sandwiches or a guy's night of light porn!" Growled Dean as he kicked at the dirt, no rocks available within kicking distance.

"I know! I know it hurts Dean that he's been screwing us over, he was supposed to be our friend, but right now we need to focus on surviving." Sam snapped for the first time that day, Dean reeling back in surprise. Sam took a breath before continuing, "We need water. We need to find out where we are."

Baring his teeth, the angry bother wilted. "You're right, but this path isn't leading anywhere!"

"There wouldn't be a road if it didn't go somewhere," stated the beanstalk as he waved at the dirt path in front of them.

"To hell, probably," murmured Dean who immediately got a nasty look until he nodded, conceding. "Yeah, sorry…I just feel really…hot."

Frowning, Sam put a hand out and touched his reluctant, though luckily shorter, brother's forehead. He drew away his hand with a hiss, which caused Dean to go stock still as a flash of fear flickered in his eyes.

"What, what, is there something on my forehead?" Dean panicked as he started touching his face like his nose had gone missing.

Shaking his head, the other was quick to reply. "No, no. It's just you are really hot. Don't you dare turn that into a sex joke," added Sam quickly as he continued. "More like sunstroke hot. Let's get you out of the sun for a bit, okay?"

Though he was stupidly warm, Dean didn't feel _sick_-hot, but he didn't see a point in worrying his brother. Plus, his feet hurt. He could take a break. Whining only minimally, Dean allowed his brother to grab him carefully by the wrist, the younger leading the older to some shade behind a large rock. A large rock he didn't remember seeing there a moment earlier. It was as if it had just sprung up out of nowhere to assist them because Sam had wanted it to.

Deciding the oversight of the rock might be heat exhaustion, the elder hunter decided not to question it. He _did_ throw out one more complaint as Sam headed over a nearby hill in the search of water, claiming he smelled something moist. It was probably a swamp if they were lucky.

"Bastard could have at least abandoned us with some cold ones," murmured Dean as he kicked his boots off and tried to find a comfortable position in the shade.

Sam grinned, glad that he had finally found water an hour later, coming back to find Dean curled up in the shade, taking a nap. That night, for the first time since they were children, Sam curled up next to his brother, allowing Dean to drool on his shoulder.

It felt good to protect Dean, if only from himself.

…

Dean was up at the crack of dawn, the sun rising in the distance. He growled and pressed his face back into his pillow. No, it was too bony and moving to be a pillow. He almost pulled a knife out of his jacket until he suddenly noticed that it was just his little brother with a jug of water in hand, head back like a turkey trying to drown in its own drool.

Not wasting a moment, Dean greedily guzzled half of the canteen before he stopped himself, gasping like he had been under water.

Sam would probably be thirsty as well. He'd just have his brother take him there and they'd take a morning dip and then they would continue onward. This damn road had to lead to somewhere.

"Sammy, Sammy, get up. We need to get moving before it gets too hot and we start roasting like turkeys on Honokaa," Dean said as he rose to his feet, grabbing the survival bag and offering a hand to the sleepy-eyed college nerd.

Groaning, thinking how wrong it was that Dean, hates-the-sun-at-some-points-in-the-morning-Dean, would willingly get up this early to do something as unpleasant as walk, reluctantly got to his feet. A quick dip later and it was back down the hell road. Truthfully, after another hell joke, both brothers carried a forlorn expressing because they were now wondering if Castiel had killed them and they were dead, and this road was their private hell to walk on forever.

"Damn angel," grumbled Sam as they continued on their way, a skip suddenly forming in Dean's step as if he was glad the sun was rising higher in the sky, beating down on them. Sammy actually considered hiding under another rock at one point. The soft earth sounded nice. So much so he considered taking his shoes off once or twice.

Luckily, about three hours later, Fate proved she wasn't a complete bitch and gave them a break because there was a village in the distance. Not a town, mind you, but a _village_. Third world kind of village since there wasn't a car in sight, not one antenna on a house, but it was still a village with higher life forms.

Ah, civilization, even if it was a one horse, camel, or llama, kind of town.

"Where are we?" asked Dean as he peeked over a rock near the village's entrance. The two felt distinctly out of place after a little girl in green met them up the road, screamed, and then ran away.

She didn't even have shoes on.

Sam had envied her for a brief moment.

"Well, it's definitely third world. Cas wanted us to take a while getting home," Sam pondered as he spied the village for a moment, rustle and tussle abound as someone led an … _ostrich _of some sort… down the street.

"Fucking angel bitch, I'll fucking kill him. He knows how reliant I am on processed foods. I can't eat dirt, Sam. I can't eat it like you can," growled Dean, kicking the ground.

Offering an ill-humored glare, Sam decided to take the initiative and started taking off his clothes, leaving just his white undershirt and brown pants. He rolled the pant legs up and kicked his shoes off. He actually almost sighed with release as his toes dug into the earth. Opening his eyes, ignoring the look Dean was giving him, the taller sibling looked down at himself. Perfectly homely as the child had been, and he didn't seem so _American_ now.

Standing up, the half-dressed brother stated, "You have terrible social skills, Dean. Let me deal with this. If I start running, _please_ don't forget to grab my shoes."

Slightly insulted, though figuring he deserved it for the dirt comment, Dean nodded and watched his brother slowly walk forward to what had to be some type of cabbage vender. Dean immediately frowned. If that idiot came back with a piece of lettuce and not something deep fat fried, there would be hell to pay.

Helllllllll … with a lot of L's.

Scrunching his shoulders, Sam walked forward with a tight gait, trying to mimic the posture of one of the locals he watched behind the cabbage man. Coming up the stand, feeling as if he now blended in, Sam noticed that the man gave him a slightly apprehensive look before the salesman held up a cabbage and said something.

Sam immediately felt sick. _No, anywhere but there_.

"You don't speak English do you? American?"

"Amheir-i-khan?" the vender said, confused. So confused that he didn't even noticed a rather raggedy animal was stalking towards the two of them.

Sam did and actually started, wondering if he should flee at the unknown entity. It almost looked like a deer of some type, but he had never…

The man lost all attention in Sam though, screaming something that probably translated into, "My cabbages" as the beast started to snack.

Keeping his shoulders low, the man distracted, Sam decided the strange creature wasn't a threat and snatched a small satchel of coins away from the stand because he knew they would need it. Then, smooth as only a hunter can be from years of breaking into places and stealing artifacts to burn, he also grabbed what looked like some strange fruit from a secondary stand where a woman wearing blues was frowning at the cabbage man's cries. He at least bought what looked like jerky for his brother because if he hadn't there would be a bitch-fest. Sam even went so far as to steal what looked like a map from a passing group.

Twenty minutes later the youngest Winchester brother felt dirty, as if he was a murderer instead of a pickpocket, but they were growing hunters. They needed to eat.

Finally making his way back to his brother, pockets heavy with many little trinkets and foodstuffs as he could steal without notice, Sam sat, throwing the jerky at his brother while he sniffed the strange fruit from the first vender. Shrugging, he bit into it, enjoying the juiciness.

"So, what did you find out, besides what a good pickpocket our family business has made us?" Dean asked as he picked up a piece of fruit, having finished the strange jerky. For some reason he was _damn-hungry_, like he was burning more calories than usual. Not that Dean was surprised. They had walked almost two days. He was use to running around but not for such extended periods of time. Taking a bite of the fruit, he shrugged. It was better than being hungry, he supposed, but a good steak would have been better.

"So," sucking on his fruit for a moment, Dean asked, "Find out where we are at?"

Grimacing as he wiped some juice off with his wrist, the younger brother asked, "… How's your Chinese Mandarin?"

Dean immediately stopped eating and frowned for a moment before growling, "No. No. No! I'll kill him. We're in China? Frickin' slot-toy-deals, China?"

Nodding, the other hunter added, "From what I can tell from their language, we must be in an underdeveloped part of the country since it was a little off."

"So I think it would be fair to say, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Dean quipped as he peered over the large bolder the two of them were hiding behind, eyeing a man in strange uniform that was standing on the edge of town as if looking for something, like a pickpocketer. Though Dean doubted it was a military man since the uniform didn't have a weapon, yet it was obvious that this was an Asian country of some type by the uniform design alone.

Sam, who was noticing that the man kept looking their way as if he could feel them, knelt down a little farther and whispered, "Really? You had to use that line. You've just jinxed us, Dean."

"Quit being superstitious," mumbled the elder brother who then stalled and for a moment the two looked at each other, the dark haired man laughing slightly as he thought of just a normal day for them, "Oooh, yeah."

Sam rolled his eyes, Dean ignored him. "Well, I could have said something like it's going to be like getting to the door in a Hooter's Fest if you would have that instead."

Waving his hand, the smarter hunter resisted the urge to slap himself in the forehead. This … was going to suck. He thought road trips could be trying during the best of times but at least they had credit card scams for measly moments of comfort and twenty-four gas stations.

They were going to end up on a diet of rice which Sam would never hear the end of.

"I am going to stick my foot so far up Castiel's trench-coated ass that he'll see Christmas! This road trip is going to suck," murmured Sam, which made Dean chuckle. "But at least we don't have to listen to your outdated cassette collection the whole way home."

"Hey, my music is awesome," Dean said before he shrugged. "I guess I kinda learned Latin, I can learn some Chinese, eat some egg rolls. It'll be just like any other road trip to any other hunt."

Smiling, for he knew it was far easier to say than do, Sam nodded. "Yeah, any other road trip."

…

Paw07: You can blame GreenApple freak for this. Here I was minding my own business on Deviantart and then bam … she gives me some Supernatural/Avatar fanart and this was born. Right now, only one chapter. I might add more if I get a real plotline in order, but just had to make this because the crossover section of SN/AtLA is really lacking. Enjoy.


	2. Truths

Thanks to **Isis the Sphinx** for beta-reading.

Chapter 2: Truths

The two of them were great thieves.

They had always been doing it they supposed. It just felt _victimless_ in the past since it was credit card fraud, but taking purse pouches and foodstuffs felt wrong. Or maybe that wasn't the real thing they were worried about, since neither wanted to point out the yeti in the room, but the more they saw of _China_ the more both felt something was _very_ wrong. They had ignored the language barrier at first, Sam using the last few hours of his computer's battery life to write down the basic words for their survival on the back of the map he stole.

The map must have been written by a blind man because Dean couldn't recognize anything. He was actually really good at Geography. Did he know every country in the world? No, he didn't, but he knew the shapes and sizes of landmasses and he didn't recognize anything on this map.

It unnerved both of them, and the strange animals were not helping.

The bird-horse thing was not an ostrich and some of the wildlife had seemed to be chimeras at first, but people were not offset by them or frightened at all by the strange intermixed beasts. Apparently, these animals were normal, but still neither could accept that they weren't in China. Where else could have Cas sent them? Where would he leave them? And this sure wasn't the past or an apocalyptic future, though it had struck up a discussion between the two brothers.

It was the kind of conversation that dragged on for a day, for lack of anything better to do in their travels. Much like the conversation they were having now, Sam pilling over some parchments he had stolen from what looked like an angry mouse man.

The very ground quaked when the man looked in his satchel and discovered a huge hole, courtesy of one of the many hunting knives in the survival bag, where everything including his coin purse had fallen out of. Sam and Dean had simply needed to follow after like scavengers, picking up the falling pieces.

"I don't know Dean, I still … something just seems wrong, you know?" Sam said as he peered at the document, struggling to read each symbol.

Dean, who was currently sharpening a stick for an arrow he was making since he _just_ _happened_ to find a bow since he _just happened_ to be unable to eat fruit anymore, lowered his eight inch hunting blade and stared at his brother for a moment before murmuring, "Not this discussion again. I thought you said we're in China? What? Is it one of the lesser known asian countries? It really doesn't matter. We'll just say Asia instead of China in our bitch-fits then."

Finally figuring out he was reading a guide of some kind, Sam placed his reading material down and glared at Dean, who had taken a perch a few feet in the air on a boulder with his feet dangling near Sam's shoulder. Pushing an offending foot away, the younger sibling continued, "I do believe that was you who stated China. I just said Chinese."

Dean, pulling the offending foot up onto his stone perch, shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't had as much practice with a bow as he did a gun, but since they were conserving the bullets for dire situations -like demons or angels or some other godforsaken monster- if he wanted red meat tonight he'd have to catch it this way.

He had good aim so he was sure after only a few missed shots he'd have a dead thing bowing to the flame of his campfire soon. At the thought of the campfire, Dean stopped his whittling and frowned. He really had to stop thinking like that all the time. He was starting to worry that he was starting to become a pyromaniac.

Eh … He'd been worse.

"Yes, it matters Dean. We need to get to a major city where they have an American Embassy. Then we can get a ride home."

Dean smiled to himself, chuckling once as he added, "Haha…stewardesses."

Sam just glared.

"What? It's been almost, what, three weeks? And though my Chinese is no longer just, '_I didn't take it', _it's still not fluent enough to pick up chicks. A man, real man that is, has needs Sammy," muttered Dean as he stared at the shaft of his arrow, reaching for an arrow head he'd found at what could have only been a battlefield once. The whole valley had burned years ago if the crispy trees were any indication.

Eye twitching, a part of his mind still wondering how there weren't little Deans running around, Sam continued, "So, we needed to head to the nearest city, which I'm not really sure where we are or what is even a city on this map. This round thing might be it, but it would have to be hundreds of miles across, this B-Ba Sing Se. Yeah, that's what it translates into."

"Not a city I have ever heard of."

"Me either, plus the scroll we _found_ is troubling," added Sam, pulling up the scroll he had been struggling to translate for the past few days.

"How so… is it about naked chicks?" Dean grinned, jabbing at his brother's apparently sissy characteristics again.

Sam actually gritted his teeth this time and Dean yelped, the rock he had been on seeming to have moved of its own accord, nearly sending the shorter sibling into a nose dive to the ground. Sam, with his quick reflexes, was immediately out of the way and to his feet with his precious scrolls in hand to stop Dean from falling on them.

Dean, who had regained his balance atop the boulder, took a moment to bark at his brother, "You saved the scrolls and not me? I'm hurt."

Waving off his brother's false need of sympathy, Sam sat down a little farther away, stating, "Get down then. The ground must be unstable, but, like I was stating, there's something strange about the scroll. It's talking about…Well, the nearest I can translate it is _bent_ or _bending_? It's a fighting style with the basic steps for self-taught lessons. Apparently, there is something about a _kata_ to fend off fire as well."

"Does it come with pictures?" said Dean as he jumped down.

"Yeah, actually it does. It looks to be some type of karate or something where you…kick rocks, barefoot," said Sam, frowning as he stared at the ink little diagram men on the scroll.

Dean made a pained look at that statement and murmured, "I'm good with my normal fighting skills, Sammy. Earning a stubbed toe doesn't sound like any fun to me."

"Me either … but … it keeps saying something about chi or life force to control an element."

"You saying we jacked some voodoo scroll from a witch doctor?" Dean asked as sat down across from his brother and started on his next arrow shaft, leaving the tail for last since he still had to collect some feathers.

"No, no…it didn't seem dark at all from the tone. It seemed the norm here," Sam remarked as he looked at the little drawing's movements, half tempted to try one but knowing better. He'd stubbed his toes enough times in the last few days, having started to go barefoot.

He just felt so much more secure without the constricting shoes on.

Shaking his head, Dean stated, "Well, we have bigger worries than magic karate, like getting back home to kick Cas' ass. So let's have some Chinese lessons, I'll catch us some dinner afterwards, and then we'll see if we can find a town. Maybe _you_ can get some decent directions now that _you_ know a few words."

About to nod his head in agreement, Sam stalled and asked, "Why am I volunteered to ask for directions?"

Smiling as he leaned forward to start a fire with just a flint rock he had picked up to conserve matches, Dean mocked, "Because real men don't ask for directions. "

Neither Winchester noticed that the bolder Dean had been sitting on cracked.

…

"Soooo…this is…"

"I know Sam…I know. Don't say it."

"Embarrassing. I mean … we are supposed to be hunters and we got caught by…"

"Fourteen year olds, children…I get it Sam. Stop rubbing it in," barked Dean in English as they glared down from their cages down at a group of scruffy kids that were a few yards down on the ground. It had been Dean that had seen the berries, Sam had tried to stop him and…yeah…live monkey traps. So, Dean now felt like a monkey in this. Just bring him a damn banana and be done with it.

Clearing his throat, hoping his accent wasn't too heavy, Sam yelled down in Chinese, "Can you help? We…Uh…stuck?"

A boy down below barked a laugh, a reed or something in his mouth as he replied back in Chinese, "I can see that? Are you Fire Nation or just a retard?"

Sam had to think for a moment, translating the sentence in his head, hoping he had understood that correctly. Though, from the way the kids were now laughing and pointing, he was sure the kid had been sarcastic and that he had translated the country wrong. Fire was not a name of a Nation.

Shrugging it off, Dean replied, "We Americans."

The kids all stopped laughing and looked confused for a minute before the scruffy kid, probably a preteen, thirteen at tops, frowned and stated in Chinese, "Am-hair-icaaaas-n? Is that a Fire Nation lie?"

"Lie?" Sam's head tilted to the side, noting that Dean had grown bored with the discussion with the prepubescent at their feet and was hacking away at the rope with his eight inch hunting knife. A bit overkill really, but that didn't stop Sam from snapping at the other, "Dean, what are you doing? That is nearly a two story fall to the ground! Stop. Stop that right now!"

Dean, who was hacking away at the rope with far too much enthusiasm, stalled as his cage twirled around in the air, stating, "Sammy, ghosts have thrown us farther than this fall to the ground and besides…I need to get down there to beat that kid. I know he called us something nasty. I swear if he called me a sissy, I'll beat his ass."

Sam frowned at his brother, "I don't think he called us anything like that…just give me a few minutes before you hurt yourself."

Stalling again, Dean glared at his brother, Sam squinting for the first time when he realized Dean's green eyes now seemed to have this golden ring around the iris. It was a haunting color really, supernatural almost. When the hell had that happened? Yeah, he didn't often stare into his brother's eyes or anything like some fanfiction writers liked to claim, but what had caused that?

They hadn't eaten anything strange, well, maybe Dean had. He swore his brother was eating twice as much as usual. Pretty much anything that could move, which was something he didn't want to think about. The last few meals had looked like chimeras. In fact, everything that Dean had caught recently had seemed interbred.

Neither one of them wanted to bridge the subject, but the map, the language, the utter lack of any modern day utilities or culture like a t-shirt bugged them both. Something wasn't right here and the golden ring in Dean's eyes was making Sam's stomach sink as the younger brother pursed his lips.

Dean, who had pulled his knife down, was now frowning at Sam, who was staring at him.

"Your staring is creeping me out, Sammy. I-is there something on my face? Berry juice…a tick? You know I hate ticks so you better tell me if it's fucking tick. Worse than fucking vamps, Sam. Those things are almost worse than fucking vamps."

Shaking his head, hoping to god that maybe there was just copper or something in Dean's all-meat diet of late, Sam stated, "It's nothing…just thinking."

Glaring at his little brother for a moment, Dean flatly stated, "You're lying…"

Rolling his eyes, not wanting a fight a few feet off the ground, the dirty-blond rolled his eyes. "Fine…it's a tick."

"Eww, eww… ehhh! Where is it?!"

"S-stop wiggling! Dean, DEANNNNNNNN!"

…

Metal makes a most unpleasant sound when mixed with bones and slamming into the ground, though not as unpleasant as a desperate brother's scream as the children struggled to get him out of the trees.

…

There was a ball of fire in his chest.

It was a small sun next to his heart and it was growing, blooming, a life all its own and it belonged to him. It was his to use. It was there to comfort his scarred soul. In fact, it was nestling up against his hell-stained soul right now; fiery wisps reaching out to touch the scars, soothing a part of him he always thought ruined. He might have wept because for the first time in a long time he was warm on the inside.

His soul, through the jokes and the gags and the love making, had long since felt cold since hell and all the shit in between, but this thing; it was breathing with the sun, with the fire, with the flames.

Dean was warm.

So he opened his eyes, the gold having eaten the green just a little bit more as they lazily tried to focus, the fire pit in front of him wavering. He had thought that it rose and fell with his breath for a moment, but the hunter didn't get to focus on that when Sam suddenly staggered inside the—hut, maybe—he was in with three children hanging off him. They were pulling Sam's hair, giggling at his strange clothes, and all the irritation stalled when the younger brother noticed Dean's gaze.

Sam couldn't help but give a relieved half-smile as he sat down on the dirty floor, the kids all sitting down next to him as if waiting for another story.

Sam, seeing their expecting gazes, said something in a Chinese dialect to the small youths and they all whined and moped, yet reluctantly made their ways outside. Sam called something back in the foreign language before he waited for the three little stinkers to disappear out the door. Only once he was sure they were gone, did he speak.

"How you feeling? You're lucky we've had lots of experience setting bones as children or you might never be able to walk again. Plus, the next nearest healer is in a Fire Nation colony which from what I understand is a bad move."

"Fire Nation?" murmured Dean, his throat dry as he made to sit up, only to fall back against the straw mat, whining.

"Did the _set bones_ recollection go over your head?" Sam growled as he got up on his knees and headed towards Dean's feet, lifting up the thin raggedy brown sheet that had been draped over the limbs, revealing a wrapped leg.

Dean moaned and wiped his hand down his face as he cringed at the idea of being bed-ridden for four to eight weeks, joking to cover up the dismay. "Well, there goes my dancing career."

"It's not a joking matter," bit out Sam, finally looking mad as he covered the limb back up. "You hit your head Dean! You could have been bleeding out in your brain and I wouldn't have known until I found you cold in the morning. And then you have the audacity to stay unconscious for nearly a week! I had to clean your bed-pan-bowl and that almost tempted the limits of a brother's love."

Dean cringed at the bed-pan comment, adding, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm in a lot of pain."

Sam rolled his eyes, shifting to the other side of the room and reaching for a small vial. "Here's some poppy-seed oil. It should kill most of the pain."

Allowing Sam to tilt his head up, he took a sip, choking it down. "Eh… that's some nasty shit, Sammy, but can you tell me why I'm in this creepy hut?" Dean asked, looking at the half decayed wooden walls, lack of a door, and dirt floor before continuing, "Instead of being around lots of cute nurses?"

Sam looked away, uncomfortable.

Dean, though feeling fuzzy, doubted it was because of the medicine. What could steal words from Sam? They had saved the world, what, five times? They had seen a lot of shit. So what could bother Sam? Did he even want to know?

Swallowing hard, ignoring that wavering flames in the middle of the room as if the fire had just been partly smothered, Dean asked, "Sammy…what happened? Why can't I have my pretty nurses?"

Closing his eyes, letting a breath out smoothly as he turned his head to look outside at the darkness, he spoke, "Well, when you fell, the kids decided to help us. Said we were too weird to be Fire Nation and started helping me learn more Chinese as well as…where we are…and what's going on here."

Dean had no idea what the Fire Nation was, but was sure they would get to that later. He just nodded.

"Turns out there's a war going on with the Fire Nation. This use to be a part of the Earth Kingdom, apparently, and these kids are all orphans from the battle or…are war children," said Sam in a soft voice.

Dean frowned. "Sam, I've never heard of a Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom. Are sure you weren't the one to hit your head?"

Sam glared, his expression still very serious. That was the kind of expression Sam got when the apocalypse was nigh. Fuck a chick in a cheese basket, this was bad. They were already in the middle of saving the world and they had another one on the horizon. The world just wanted to die, that must be it, because this saving the world thing, maybe one or twice, understandable, but really?

Did god really hate them both that much?

Sam interrupted his brother's internal meltdown with a sigh, stating, "No, you did. Now, let me finish…"

Sam suddenly seemed pained, as if he was struggling for the right words to say which only made Dean even more nervous as he struggled to slowly sit up, this time minding his leg and aching back, murmuring, "Just out with it. I can't take the suspense."

"You've never heard of those countries before because they are not on _Earth_," said Sam, carefully, leaving it hang there.

Dean, who was holding his abdomen because it was aching, chuckled in his throat, understanding what had not been said.

"W-what? You're kidding Sammy. There are no such things as aliens. Aliens are just explanations people make up because they don't want to call them monsters. Remember the last _alien encounter_ we had? Well, you didn't have a soul then…but it was fairies Sam. Little, pain in the ass, fairies! A djinn would be more likely but then again I haven't been having a good time so I don't think that's it. Or, maybe the angles are just fucking with our heads? Think of that for…"

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam barked suddenly, "We are not on Earth. Cas wanted to keep us away and he did a hell of a good job. I don't know if it's an alternate dimension or another planet or some form of hell! All I know is that those animals neither of us recognize…chimera…they are normal animals here! And the stars! I took a few astrology classes and none of the star patterns are normal! And English…the kids didn't even know there were other languages around. The whole planet speaks some form of Chinese, Dean. We are not on fucking Earth! They don't even know what electricity is."

The elder brother wilted and suddenly felt really sick, the whole room starting to tilt as if he had vertigo, his voice weak as he whispered, "I-I need to lie down, Sam. T-that's a little too much to take for me at once, _yah_ know."

Sam immediately looked ashamed, getting in closer as he put a hand on his brother's back, helping him lay down, his voice soft, "S-sorry, I figured this out a few days ago and it's been eating at me."

Nodding his head slightly, Dean suddenly felt every limb and their bruises. Swallowing the pain, the elder hunter whispered, "I get you. I get you."

Swallowing hard, feeling tears prickle at the sides of his eyes, Dean felt vulnerable for the first time in a long time, his voice shaking as a hard realization hit him suddenly, "Sammy…I don't think we are going to be able to save the world this time. Can't save a place if you don't even know where the hell it is."

Sam, who was watching the flames almost smolder out completely, the room becoming so dark the moon outside was almost offering more light to the shanty hut than the flames were, nodded and whispered, "I know, Dean. I know."

XXX

Paw07: Oooh, a sad chapter ending. Regardless, I really shouldn't be working on this, but eh… I've been in an Avatar mood. Updates will most likely be sporadic though. Reluctant Hero is still on the top of my list of things to work on. Later!


	3. War Child

Thank you to **Isis the Sphinx** for beta-reading.

Chapter 3: War Child

Sam sighed and took his shirt off, staring at the tan lines that were starting to form over his flesh wherever his slowly tattering clothing wasn't protecting him. He couldn't recall ever being outside so much. Well, not in the sunlight. He and Dean were raised in the darkness as if they were monsters themselves and a small part of Sam that was still the man that had went to college and dreamed of a wife and simpler things was saddened.

He was raised to move and kill and shift through the dark, a mimicry of the things he hunted.

_Know thy enemy_ was taken far too seriously by their occupation as hunters.

It has been a cruel life.

Sam didn't miss how his thoughts were starting to form as past tense in his head, as if hunting or Earth would never be again. His mind was starting to tell him they were never going home, because the only person that knew where they were or cared was an angel that had betrayed them.

When Cas had grabbed their shoulders, the sound of his sightless wings rising up to take flight, his words had echoed in Sam's head, "_I care about the two of you. We are friends and this has to be done. Please forgive me_."

Castiel tried to be forward when he could be with his developing emotions and his words were always true even if he kept some things to himself. So, he apparently did care about the two of them but Sam had not seen Dean look so betrayed in a long time. If his elder brother's heart wasn't so torn and beaten and sore, his sibling may have started crying there on the spot when Cas revealed his most recent betrayal. But Dean was too strong to show such weakness. The brunette would just pick up and go on.

But…where to carry on to?

Sam had spoken to the children in camp (who apparently were all orphans) and was able to garnish some information. First of all, the children would rather remain as orphans then be caught and raised by the invading colonists, the Fire Nation. The Fire Nation, apparently, would then convert their young minds to either hate the Earth Kingdom or be sent away if they were found out to be benders.

Sam closed his eyes and felt the water in the stream run over his fingers.

Now, that was something that haunted him.

Apparently, certain people were blessed with abilities to manipulate one of the four elements. Well, three controllable elements, though there were four. Apparently one race was wiped out due to the war and Sam did not doubt that those temples were probably _spook_ central. Regardless of the dead though, benders apparently could control their element with their chi. That … was dangerous. In fact, it was very dangerous when compared to their world where there were no spirits or magic or spiritual abilities in everyday lives. That type of power could be abused like in no one's dreams.

Someone had very big dreams apparently and had taken advantage. There was a comet, Sozin's Comet, which had helped the Fire Nation destroy all the Air Nomads which had held the current Avatar. The Avatar was some type of god in flesh from what Sam understood and the Avatar would have saved the world from the Fire Nation's corruption but the savior had been killed. So the Fire Nation expanded with their metal machines (their steam engines having just been developed) and had nearly wiped out the Southern Water Tribe and had taken large quantities of the Earth Kingdom so far.

The war had apparently been going on for one hundred years.

Opening his eyes, Sam shook his head and washed his face, filling a canteen or two before he headed back to home base. In truth, it wasn't really a base, more like a hideout. It was basically a small collection of tents and temporary shacks before they had to move again. They couldn't be found by the invading force or they would either be burned alive, imprisoned, or _educated_ if they were young enough.

No child wanted to be told their parents were bad people for being the wrong nationality; so the ones that could, ran.

Sam's fists shook at the thought. He had studied plenty of history. He understood invading forces and how they could change the world. Part of him could think of these people as perhaps the English invading and setting up colonies, but he knew that was unlikely from what he was hearing. It was more like Nazi Germany settling up colonies, racial purity and all.

Or elemental purity in this case.

There would be no Americans to join this fight and help turn the tides this time; unless you expected two misplaced brothers to change the war's course. Yeah, D-Days would mean Dean-Days and his brother would probably then proclaim his own holiday where chicks and beer would rain freely.

Chuckling to himself at the thought of his brother and his narcissism, Sam walked into the middle of the encampment to head towards his brother's hut, stoke his fire, feed him, and then go hunting or scavenging. Running into the children, though disheartening, had been a godsend a few days ago. The children didn't really question why they knew so little Chinese, why they didn't know any local customs or wildlife, or their strange clothes. All they merely saw were two adults that weren't Fire Nation or affiliated with them.

Sam had no plans to stay and start a backwoods orphanage, but he had decided to give them some intelligent input, like maybe instead of moving all of the time and risking their locations they should move into the trees or underground. The children had all looked at him strangely, staring intently at his bare feet for a moment, before one of them asked if he would dig the tunnels with bending.

He had looked confused and then laughed, stating, no he had no chi abilities; he would need a shovel.

Still looking suspicious or curious, all the children broke off looking for spare wood and a location for a tree village.

Since then, Sam had found himself bombarded with questions from how to set a bone, to how to kill a man. Sam did not answer the latter, stating there were already too many ways to kill a man and Sam would not give them any more ideas. He then, ready to walk away and check on Dean, asked how they knew he had killed someone (or something) and the children had answered. His eyes told them.

It was a haunting truth.

"So, we found a spot," said one of the boys, hair every which way with a piece of stray wheat in his mouth as he stepped into Sam's path towards Dean's hut, "for the tree houses. Will you come scout it out with me to make sure I didn't overlook something? It's above the dam so the _Fire Nation_ barely goes up there."

Sam didn't miss the boy's bitter tone. Jet, though he doubted that was the child's real name, hated them and his reasoning was centered around a rumor about War Children. Sam wasn't quite sure what it was but could make an educated guess. The Fire Nation was trying to convert people to their ways of thinking. It would be no surprise that they would intermix with the rural populace if they took up residence.

If Jet was a fully voluntary product or not, Sam didn't want to guess but since Jet didn't have the same rounded features of all the other children in the camp Sam suspected Jet was a War Child. If his mother just abandoned him when he was old enough to steal on his own or not, Sam could only guess.

Not that Sam would question such a rumor forwardly, especially when Jet was going to such lengths to squash any rumors. He was trying to make himself up to be some kind of bad boy vigilante. He had even tried to convince some of the more able bodied children to steal from a nearby Fire Nation storage shed, but they were all too scared.

Frowning, wanting to check on his brother yet at the same time not wanting to listen to Dean's whining about an itch he couldn't reach, he offered a canteen out, murmuring, "Sure, as long as someone waters my brother."

Jet shrugged at a child next to him and the canteen was taken.

...

Jet, Sam had learned, was a little liar.

…

Sam sank lower into the ground watching the metal red boot move forward, their bodies hidden in the bushes feet from the fire-benders' encampment. The child had tricked him, making Sam think it was for an area survey. Instead, the brat had fooled him into going to the Fire Nation storage shed. From the looks of it, a company of twelve or so men draped in red armor were heading out, luckily. The soldiers seemed to be more monsters than men with those skull masks and it almost stirred an ounce of fear in Sam.

… Almost. He had seen far too many things to truly be afraid.

Shaking off the feeling, he let out the breath he had been holding since he fell to the earth next to the dirty path as the men headed out, Sam tried to think tactically. They were doing rounds or something from the barking the commander was giving, apparently.

Then, turning his glare to the boy that was smiling at the nearly abandoned shed despite a lone soldier, Sam almost growled, the pebbles in the path shifting slightly.

"You little idiot. Do you not understand the consequences that could have befallen us if I hadn't seen those men and ducked?"

Jet, though only thirteen or fourteen and far too dark for his young years, gave a nervous grin and stated, "Yeah, we'd be dead. You have good reflexes, old man. Just see how fast I am though."

Sam's mouth was only allowed to gape for a moment before the man realized the pre-teen was grabbing his curved hooks and dashing out of the shrubbery. Jet's smile was bound and his movements were deadly and forward and far too practiced. Where the child even got such weapons and at such a young age, Sam could only theorize. And who would have taught the child to be so proficient in a weapon when he was supposed to be an orphan?

The _rumor_ was starting to seem more and more realistic as the day passed.

Regardless, the pike man, who had been sitting down and working on his weapon in front of the storage shed, rose to his feet and for a moment looked surprised before he gained a determined glower. Both Jet and Sam were surprised, when he threw off his red helmet and barked at the pre-teen.

"Where have you been, Jet?! We thought you were dead!"

Jet almost stalled; his jaw dropping as he crossed the two tools in front of himself as if in defense, his eyes wide as he seemed to notice the Fire Nation soldier's identity.

Turning to look at Sam nervously, voice squeaking, Jet took a wary step back when the solider took a step forward and barked, "What are you doing here?! More importantly, where have you been?!"

Sam, suddenly glad that he had decided to watch instead of heading forward with the stupid boy, noticed that a second unarmed guardsman had come out of his tent because of the shouting. Even he stalled in surprise at Jet's appearance before he came forward and suddenly grabbed Jet's wrist, shouting something like he was obediencing a naughty child. Jet could only jerk away and tug at his wrist, barking back, "Let me go! What are you two doing here!"

It was then that Sam saw the real age of the youth reflect in Jet's eyes as he yelped and tried to pull away, his skills forgotten. Jet knew these men and he was too scared to even strike out as the second soldier started restraining the physically weaker teenager. Sam sighed. He really didn't know how Jet knew these two men and thought Sam really wanted to know, he wasn't going to let the younger boy become a captive of these two soldiers even if he was a runaway from the look of things. After all, from the looks of it, besides restraining the teenager the soldiers had no intention of hurting him, just capturing him.

The idea of War Child was becoming sickeningly realistic and Sam almost pitied the younger, angry boy.

Sighing, knowing he would have to give the kid a stern talking to because physical violence didn't solve everything, Sam grabbed out a silver, religiously-crested brass knuckles. He had taken it out more on instinct than anything else and decided to keep low to the ground as he dashed forward. He swiftly came behind the capturer and slammed the man in the back of the neck below his helmet. The man immediately went slack, unconscious, and fell forward onto Jet. Sam, not wasting a moment's surprise, turned his attention to the other guard. He quickly pushed his arm forward and punched the second guard in the face, the helmet-less guard was unconscious before he hit the ground, his still form slumping against the shed.

Staring for only a moment to make sure the last Fire Nation soldier didn't get up, uncertain if he was glad or not to see if these two men were really Fire Benders or not, he turned to Jet and glared. Jet, slowly crawling out from under the unconscious man, had to wipe his eyes.

He was near tears.

He assuredly knew these men.

Regardless, the men were both out like lights so Sam kindly leaned them against the side of the inventory shed. The whole time Sam tried not to stare at Jet as the youth stared at the two guardsmen as if in a daze. Sam merely took this time to pick the lock. His lock set clicking away; Sam figured some pain medicine would at least be an acceptable reasoning for the scrimmage, as well as some medication for the fever Dean had been unable to shake. True, the fever wasn't dangerous but Dean was hotter than usual and Sam was really starting to worry that maybe there was an internal infection so any medicine he got a hold of would be great.

Even if he had to steal it.

He was really a very good thief. Of all the skills he would think useful in everyday life if he retired from being a hunter, it wasn't theft, but it was best to be thankful for such a skill nowadays.

Opening the door to the shed, eyeing the contents for medicine, Sam whispered to Jet as a now heartbroken boy stepped inside and started aimlessly grabbing needed supplies like salt and preserving spices. "So, are you going to tell me how you knew them?"

Swallowing hard, hands shaking as he looked far more his age now than ever -a slightly yellow gleam in his brown eyes- Jet whispered, "I don't know what you mean. I don't know those men."

Closing his sack, a rage that had impregnated his blood when his mother had been sacrificed on the ceiling, Sam lashed out and grabbed a small wrist. The earth rumbled beneath him as he barked, "Don't you ever lie to my face again or you will regret it."

Jet, always cocky since the day he and Dean had the useful misfortune of meeting the boy, remained silent as he pulled his supplies close, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. He was but a child after all and Sam couldn't help but sigh. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so young and angry. Feeling a little ashamed, Sam patted the boy on the head a moment later, pulling him into a man-hug as he whispered, "Never mind, it's okay to have secrets. I have plenty. Just don't lie to me."

Sam would later pretend the wet spot on his shirt wasn't from tears where Jet had placed his face as they walked back in silence, their supplies strung over their shoulders and dragged behind like heavy burdens.

…

Dean glared at the small body across the way as he continued to attach the feathers to his arrow's shaft. He had nothing better to do and mostly he did it because he did not want to think of what Sam had said about where they were even though that had been nearly three days ago. Not that he was getting much done, the child's eyes boring into him like little devil eyes from across the way in the hut. In fact, at any moment he expected the child's abnormally large eyes to suddenly turn black and for the kid to lunge forward and try to kill him or to at least say something dead-kid worthy like, 'Come Play with us' or 'I see dead people'. And if that happened, the kid was dead.

Ugh, little kids were creepy.

_Creepy_...

Like changeling creepy. If that thing, uh, kid, got anywhere near his neck, he was going to freak. Where was the survival bag? Resisting the urge to drag himself across the floor to get to the bag _on the other side of the hut_, Dean frowned and decided he wasn't going to take any more of this uncanny vibe, and he waved his arrow about as a sign of back off as he stated, "Shoo pipsqueak, your gaze is creepy."

The kid just continued to stare at him though, boring into his soul.

Wincing, Dean recalled he had said that in English and tried again, playing with the words Sam was garnishing from the makeshift camp of children and pre-teens and passing on to him from, "You heard me, get."

The child just sat there, knees in his chest with his chin on the top of his knees, staring. His eyes getting wider as if trying harder to bore into Dean's mind, making the adult lean back against the wall with one eyebrow raised, bow shaft almost forgotten. The kid now looked like a bug eyed monster, covered in dirt.

"Egh," whined Dean, "Shoo, mini-creepier."

More staring occurred though and unable to take it, Dean cried out, "Sammy! Sam! Assistance required. Someone call On-Star!"

The child, no longer wishing to be still, merely started crawling forward though, probably nine or ten, until he was inches from the bottom of Dean's feet, staring at them as if hungry and wanting to eat one of Dean's toes and, sadly, it was his crippled foot so he couldn't even drag it away, wrapped and bound like a stump.

"Sam! It's going to touch me!"

Slowly, grime covered fingers reaching forward, the child touched the flesh of the wrapped foot, Dean twitching and bared his teeth. He didn't even have anything to throw! Yet, suddenly, the child pulled away with a surprised expression. The child then stared at him with big doe eyes of fear when he whispered, "You're really hot."

Dean's eye twitched, growling, "I'm not _into_ small children. I need full figured gals … unless you mean my flesh is hot. I'm sure it's a fever. I've been cold and Sammy can't get the fire hot enough."

Shaking his head, Dean was sure that he had mispronounced a few words, but at least the child had spoken now and seemed a little less like a creeper. Before now, the silence was haunting more than the gaze, but the child's questionable intent was not helping things.

Looking at him for a moment more, the child suddenly lurched forward and Dean almost reached for one of the arrows he had been working on to stab the questionable child. He could not recall _ever_ going so long without killing something or something trying to kill him, or someone mentioning being killed by some monster and it was truthfully putting him on edge.

Yet, she merely pinched his cheeks, squinting at his eyes, "And your eyes are golden-ish. Y-you have to be one, but-but you can't be. Fire-benders are scary and mean and they hurt anyone who isn't Fire Nation like them."

The kid's eyes were hopeful and fearful at the same time, whispering, "Unless you are like Jet."

"Fire-bender, Jet, what are you talking about?"

Yet, as Fate was a mystery who was just as mysterious and pissy as she was in their world, Sam took this time to enter looking rather grumpy and dirty—for some reason Sam had found himself a fan of running around barefoot, camping and rolling in the earth apparently, since he had a thin film of dirty on him which Dean found unsettling. Sam was supposed to be the clean freak and _he_ wasn't going to pick up the slack of that part of their sibling relationship.

The child, throwing a canteen at Dean, immediately exited when he saw Sam's expression though he gave Dean one more look before he was gone.

Leaning against the weak entrance, not giving the child a second glance, Sam stated in English, "What Dean? I had a bad day and I am not scratching your big toe again or stoking the fire. I'm sure it's a fever so let me mix you some medicine from our recent supplies, but no one needs to be that hot in the summer time."

"This is not a toe emergency," said Dean, rolling his eyes as he spoke in English. "I think he's a changeling."

Sam resisted the urge to pinch his noise bridge, still frustrated with Jet, as he shook his head as he murmured, "That's a very nice little girl who just lost her parents. She's just looking for a parental figure."

"That thing's a girl?" said Dean trying to peer around the corner as he opened the canteen and sniffed its contents before taking a wary sip. He was thirsty as hell.

"Yes, though she won't tell anyone her name so the boys nicknamed her Smeller Bee. No idea why, so don't ask," said Sam as he shifted toward the inside, carrying a large bag inside that looked heavy with supplies.

Stolen probably. Not that Dean was judging.

"Still looks like a boy," said Dean, pouting for a moment. He was upset that he couldn't be investigating the area like Sam and was instead stuck here in the corner like a naughty toddler.

He HATED broken bones. He should just attempt a Wolverine and be done with it. Even though that would probably cause death, metal attached to the bones and all. Though, Dean was quite sure that death would be better than _this_. Huh, he wondered if this planet or dimension even had a Death like their planet, pizza eating and reaper assisting and all.

Probably not, Sam had heard some things about the spirit realm and had relayed some of the local legends. It turned out that this was a Hindu/Buddhist society so they had no belief in the same types of gods or angels. Did that mean that minor gods ruled here? Did angels even care about this planet? Did this place even have the same monsters? Did god just make planets and gallivant off because this was fucking ridiculous. He had just learned of God's baggage from Angels to Archangels and the mother or all monsters and now he had to learn about new gods.

Just fuckin' fantastic.

Well, at least people believed in ghosts and spirits around here. Probably not monsters, since every animal they had here was a chimera from the looks of it. So what was left to be monsters? If Dean had to make a guess, if there were any monsters at all, it was the ones that knew how to hide, the kind that could blend.

The truly dangerous kind.

Dean had no high hopes that that theory wasn't true. There were always monsters of some kind, something to go bump in the night. Cas, probably showing a final moment of old companionship, left them in such a place where people at least believed in the supernatural. So the angle had _tried_ it seemed.

As if war was much better.

Which, from the way Sam was sitting down, they were going to have one of _those_ discussions. Sam, not wanting an orphanage but certainly wanting to help, was working with the orphans by telling them evasion tactics that were meant more for vamps or werewolves, but who was counting. The kids would have made great hunters in their world. Speaking of which, it was amazing how well the children hunted real food. One child, Long-Shot as Dean liked to call him, just walked by from time to time with a bow and fresh kills over his shoulder.

"So, how is my little Robin Hood? Tell me, when are we all going to move into the trees?" Dean mocked as he picked up his arrow shaft and piddled with it some more.

Sam sighed, stating, "Well, that was where I was supposed to be going today, but instead a little brat named Jet, the unofficial leader of the lost boys, tricked me into going to a Fire Nation encampment to steal some things from a storage shed. Personally, I think they are called Fire Nation for their color but the kids are positive that they throw fire from their fists though I didn't see any. Either way, I wasn't going to take on a dozen or so grown men riding rhinos though I did take out two for some supplies."

Dean almost dropped his carving knife, a child's excitement in his eyes. "They get to ride rhinos! Damn, and here I thought I'd have to replace my baby with an ostrich. Still not a gas guzzling beauty, but I'm sure I could pick up a chick riding a rhino."

Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten. He would not allow Dean's attitude to irritate him today.

"That's not the point, Dean. What really bothered me is that I had only seen a few men with weapons; the rest had no weapons at all. Jet later mentioned that those were probably fire-benders. Fire-benders carry their element within or something so they don't need any weapons besides their limbs."

Dean frowned hard, murmuring, "So... now we have to run from people with flame throwers for hands?"

"From what I understand, yes."

Dean leaned his head against the wall and groaned, "Can't I just have something easy like a vampire? Come on. New monsters, really."

"Well," interjected Sam. "They aren't really monsters. It's a born ability and apparently there are three different elements in existence: Fire, earth, water. So _men_, not monsters."

"You tellin' me everyday people have super powers! A monster, I can predict, but an idiot with super powers, not cool Cas, not cool!" Dean barked up the sky, hoping the other could hear him.

Sam nodded, murmuring, "So that scroll with kicking rocks makes a whole lot more sense."

"Sure does," added Dean, still staring at the ceiling, a frown forming as he recalled the Smeller Bee girl's word. "Tell me, Sammy. You saw their faces and that, right? The fire-benders I mean."

Sam, who was reaching into a bag and pulling out what looked like lunch, nodded.

"Well... dp I look like one?"

Frowning, Sam stated, "Well, they look like anybody else. Why would you ask?"

Looking at the flames in the hearth, Dean shook his head, tone soft, "No reason, Sammy. No reason."

XXX

Paw07: Damn, it's been hot, hasn't it? Weather wise. Well, keep cool my chickies and I hope everyone had a good 4th of July.

**Grammar Edits May 2013.**


	4. Monsters

Thanks to **Isis the Sphinx** for beta-reading.

Chapter 4: Monsters

Sam groaned as he rolled over, pressing his head into a pile of fabric he was using as a pillow. It had been a very long day, helping the children lifting up wood and trying to recall every bit of carpentry and design knowledge that his mind contained. Dean would probably be better at such a skill, but he was still crippled. Was that thing ever going to come off? It had been four days since the fiasco with Jet and personally, the kid was better.

He actually ate with Sam and Dean the last few evenings, his little friends following after. The silent and probably mute kid, on one such evening was dubbed Long-Shot by Dean, and Smeller Bee were the two most popular supper guests besides Jet. Though a small straggly kid called Pipsqueak would sometimes join them, stating that one day he would be huge like his father.

Tonight had been no different, except Sam was trying to get to sleep even though Dean had started his nightly chore, ghost stories.

Most of the stories were from personal experience, but Dean would throw a spin on them to make them sound like they belonged a little more in this world. Not that Sam was complaining. It really did wonders for Dean's Chinese though Sam doubted that it was wondrous for the kids' minds. They were bound to have nightmares.

Rolling over and sitting up, he glared at the elder sibling and mumbled in Chinese, "Dean, do you really think the scarecrow god is a story for little kids? I mean, they were sacrificing people."

Frowning, about to get to the chase scene through the apple orchard, Dean grumbled, "Well, do you want me to tell them about changelings or white ladies instead?"

"The what!" Choked Jet, his eyes suddenly wide as his bread dropped to the floor.

The kids that had been listening all turned their eyes to Jet who now looked ashamed, his young face aglow in the firelight. The reaction predictably caused the two American's to stall in their verbal to-be fight, Dean's eyes getting a suspicious gleam as he asked, "What? You know what those are?"

Jet, looking even more troubled, quickly rose to his feet and murmured, "N-no. I-I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

The two adults watched as the pre-teen quickly got to his feet and slowly excused himself, pain pinching at the corners of his eyes. He was gone before anyone could halt him or question his actions. Stillness quickly took over the hut, the very fire seeming to sink. Here Sam had thought, cutting wood and telling the older boy how best to evade the Fire Nation had made them closer; the boy just revealed he had more unanswered questions about himself.

Just like the guard that knew Jet and tried to capture him.

He hadn't spoken to Jet about it yet, but he had a feeling that Jet wanted a new beginning and why should Sam deny the boy that? After all, Jet had eyes just like the guards and Dean.

Sam tried not to stare at his brother's eyes and the golden glow that had devoured some of the brown color. Instead, Sam turned his eyes to SmellerBee. She was looking out the door and Sam had a feeling Jet and her had been together for a long time even though they were both so young. If anyone had any idea, it was her.

Frowning softly, Sam asked, "Is there something about this white lady that we should know and what does it have to do with Jet?"

Head jerking, suddenly looking ashamed, SmellerBee murmured, "It's that obvious, huh? Well, Jet hasn't always been here with our group. But, I don't know if it's my tale to tell."

The two Winchesters both prickled, hunting instincts rising to the surface as well as the want to flash their FBI badges to try and get the scoop. Just giving each other a look, the two both knew they needed to pry. If there was something supernatural they would take care of it. True, a life without monsters would be great, but neither could ignore what was in their blood.

At least they wouldn't have to worry about people thinking they were crazy anymore.

Gods let themselves be known here.

Hell, they had one as a hero figure here, the Avatar. Poor fool was apparently dead though. Not much of a god, really, but then again, the two of them had killed their share of gods.

Frowning, Dean decided to press on the subject, asking, "But, if there is any danger to the group you should let us know, Smeller Bee. Trust me…you don't want blood on your hands if something bad happens."

Head snapping up from its gaze at the dirty floor, the girl suddenly looked afraid and angry as she almost yelled, "Jet would never hurt any of us!"

Eyes becoming a glare, Dean asked in a darker tone, "This isn't about Jet, unless there's something that we should _know, _kid."

Shaking her head, giving Long-Shot a worried look who merely shrugged his shoulder and nodded at her, the young girl sighed and whispered, "Well, it's not about Jet himself. It's about where he came from. You see, he didn't come from the neighboring villages like the rest of us. Jet…Jet came out of the Ash Forest, half starved and haunted looking. We all thought he was a ghost until he collapsed from exhaustion."

The girl looked out at the dark for a moment, suddenly looking like a small little girl instead of the strong youth that the two brothers had come to know. Her fingers gripped tightly to her pants fabric before she continued, "We were surprised that someone came out of there alive at all… for that matter another kid. She takes everyone, especially the young."

Feeling a chill in the air, even though the fire now seemed high and attentive now, the two siblings leaned in and waited for that youth's lips to move, and slowly they did.

Meeting Dean's gaze, she almost whispered, "The lady in white…covered in ash. So much so her skin looks grey. She lost all of her children in the war and died of a broken heart though some say she was killed by Fire Nation soldiers because she killed her war-child after she discovered the child was a fire-bender. In truth, no one knows how she died, but she wails for the death of her children or child. So much so…"

The girl bit her lip, almost as if she was afraid to say the next words before she continued, looking more her age with those frightened little eyes.

"So much so… that she takes all who enter that forest or come too near. She steals children and _kills_ them, so she won't be alone. And sometimes the spirits of those children…come out to play and to lure others in."

Sam and Dean both were frowning at this point, the fear in all the youths' eyes unmistakable. They had both seen that look so many times before. True, this thing was just an urban legend at this point but there were far too many legends that were true, especially in this world given that the supernatural was a part of everyone's everyday life.

Both adults remained silent for a time even as Long-Shot rubbed Smeller Bee's forearm like a comforting friend should, she was close to tears like the ghost has personally taken someone from her. And for all they knew, perhaps the thing had.

Then, having thought it over, deducting that this was most likely a type of spirit if it was real, Dean asked, "Isn't the Ash Forest just a mile or two from here? The one that looks like it was burned down and has started to regrow?"

This time, Long-Shot nodded.

"Then," confused, Dean continued, "Why in Sam-hill are you doing so close? You like to play bait?"

Pipsqueak, his voice squeaky with youth and pre-puberty that he was named for, answered, "Well, it's the guards, the Fire Nation soldiers that fear her the most. Sometimes, if they see one of us kids, they actually walk in the opposite direction, because…they think we are the spirits of one of the white mother's victims. The younger guards will sometimes set chase, but the older ones…they are afraid of the Un-mother."

It was easy to say that both Sam and Dean were glad that they had lugged around their survival bag and not what a normal person would consider a survival bag, because in this world…there be monsters.

…

Far from the worried brothers was another troubled figure that was just overcoming an attack by one of the said brothers.

Slowly, Ling rubbed his neck as he sat up in the medic's tent, looking over at the second victim of that tall Earth Kingdom citizen that resembled a _moose_ which had gotten the drop on them about four days ago. Shui was still out like a light and that was probably best. He would probably be upset that they had lost him.

That they had lost Jet, Shui's cousin.

True, Jet was half Earth Kingdom, but he looked like his father except that he had his mother's soft features. A good woman, for an Earth Kingdom gal. She had waited for Jet's father the whole time, up until the end when she died of disease. Jet's dad was allowed to leave his post to pick up his son, having kept his marriage a secret to keep Jet's mother, Chou, safe from prejudices until the area was properly populated.

The territory was still in a grey area though soon it would be theirs.

Sadly, Jet didn't take having a small group of Fire Nation soldiers at his door very well, especially when one embraced him and called him son. Half-starved from trying to fend for himself since his mother's death, he was forced to go with his father, though hate boiled in his blood. Everyone could see that, the boy had apparently never been told the truth of his origins to probably protect him. Later, in a fit, Jet revealed that the villagers had told him of his origins since his mother would not. He had told Captain Ryuu, his father, that his mother had been raped and that he was a war child, and that they were lying to him. This man wasn't his father.

And that day, in his rage, Jet had fire-bended for the first time.

That should have been a father's proudest moments. Instead, it was Ryuu's saddest moment when his son wept instead of becoming elated by his bending. It was an uphill battle after all, trying Master after Master to get Jet to try bending again. In desperation and sorrow, sick of having his son cringe away from him, Ryuu decided to leave Jet with Shui. Shui, a nephew of his oldest brother, was a family member he trusted. Ryuu hoped that Shui would warm the youth up to the idea that it wasn't a bad thing to be a fire-bender and that his father wanted him. After all, Shui's unit was known for having successfully incorporated several war children.

Ling one himself.

Ryuu had been hopeful because of this and Shui had been adamant with the vow to do his best. He started off with befriending the grieving child with weapons training as a build up for fire-bending as well as introducing him to many half-bred soldiers in the unit. The half-bred soldiers were not a frowned upon thing as long as they were not earth-benders and showed their allegiance, generally by joining the war efforts.

Though the day Shui had placed a Master in front of Jet's form, instead of another day of weapon's practice in the stronghold, Jet snapped saying he had been betrayed. They just wanted him to be an evil fire-bender. This Master, proud of his bending, refused to take such disgraceful words and had disciplined Jet.

It wasn't too bad, considering some of the vulgar things that had come out of the broken boy's mouth, but while treating a bloody lip Shui had promised to take fire-bending slower. Ryuu wouldn't be back from his visit to the Fire Nation for a while longer. Something was going on at the capital, apparently. Prince Zuko had spoken out against his father.

Shui continued by telling Jet that some discipline would have to follow, like what happened to him that day. Honor is important. The cousin the finished up and ruffled Jet's hair, telling him not to worry for Prince Zuko, he was the Fire Lord's only son after all and all fathers love their sons. Like how Ryuu loved him.

"Agni … my head."

Ling perked up for his inner recollections and turned, giving his friend a soft smile, "You are awake, good. I was worried that tall moose-guy hurt you irreparably. You've been out for a few days."

Shaking his head, Shui glared at the other man in the medical hut, "Of course that giant wouldn't keep me down, no matter how freakishly tall he was. Not when I have honor to uphold."

Looking at his friend as he rose and reached for his armor though he was still a little shaky, Ling asked, "I know you just woke up but I know what you are thinking and are you _sure_ it wasn't a trick of grieving minds? He has been missing for months and he went into Ash Forest. _She_ should have taken him. He is but a boy."

"But she didn't! That's all that matters. And at least now I don't have to duck my head in shame whenever my uncle is in my presence," Shui said, turning with a look of determination in his eyes as he finished. "For I will uphold my honor and return his son. Jet will go back where he belongs."

"But what of the man that was with him? Jet didn't look like a captive," said Ling as he started putting on his own clothing.

Eyes a soft brown with hints of gold like Jet's, Shui's voice became hard as he growled, "That Earth Kingdom scum has corrupted him, a scared boy that misses his mother, but he is fire and he belongs with us. I will crush that man and anyone that stands in my way. I will get my cousin back."

XXX

Paw07: Yep, we learn Jet's dirty secret. I had a fic for it once but it did badly so it was put to the side but I love the plot idea so I decided to use it as a catalyst in here. Later.


	5. Trackers

Chapter 5: Trackers

"Dean … you should sit down. You've been up all day," said Sam in English as he turned his gaze away from the trees he was staring up at, the children working on the fourth shack of their tree village.

Dean, who was hobbling around on his cast with a makeshift crutch, looked up from his work on his rope bridges. "Sammy, you know it has always been my dream to live in an adult tree house. Stop being a kill joy about the _Boys Only _sign … the girls will have a hut as well. In fact, I want this done before night fall that way us boys can make some smores and you girls can put your hair in pig tails and shit."

Eyes becoming slits, Sam added, "Well, you could seriously damage the bone and have a limp the rest of your life."

"Well, I always did love pirate jokes."

"Dean, I'm serious, get off the leg," grumbled Sam as he started to look frazzled.

Sighing, looking for a soft patch of ground, Dean set himself down, working on his wooden bridge still. It was slightly awkward with the large planks, but in truth he didn't need a limp. This was a new world and he needed to be able to fight or flee if he couldn't handle a situation. Running wasn't his forte but it was always best to survive another day.

"Thank you and stop pouting, you are a grown man. Give it two more weeks and then we will cut it off. We might even be able to find a real healer," grumbled Sam as he walked towards his brother, flopping down next to him on the soft grass under one of the tree homes. Sam silently offered a canteen of cool water to his brother.

Dean was glad just to be out of the shack. Not that the shack existed anymore having been cannibalized that day for its wood. Regardless, the eldest brother couldn't help but grumble, "I still hate Cass for not even sending us away with some beer. I'm going through withdrawal here, Sammy. No beer, barely any meat, and no cholesterol. My body is suffering."

"Yes, eating healthy foods … deadly," murmured Sam as he pushed the canteen closer to Dean's face until the older brother finally grabbed it and took a swig. And for a moment, the two of them stopped working to just listen to the insects sing as they broke out some bread and dried meats. Rice would have been better but that required cooking some of the supply they stole from the Fire Nation. Something that both Sam and Dean had agreed on … the kids would need it after they left. They would take some for supplies of course, but they would be on the move.

They could steal easier then the children anyway.

Licking his fingers, not at all feeling fulfilled since there wasn't a ounce of grease in it, Dean asked, "So, when I'm out of this … hell-cast… what do you think we should do? There is … no point going to Ba Sing Se because there is no American Embassy. There is no easy way home … if ever."

Chewing for a moment, thinking, Sam replied, "Well, we always wanted a new beginning. A place without angels and demons and a fucked up world that just seems to want to die."

"Doing what?" asked Dean softly as he watched the night start to devour the sky, the stars and constellations seeming new. And they probably were.

Sam actually laughed, looking at his brother like he was mad. "Really? You don't know? You get to do the thing that you love and it doesn't require one lie. You can tell every girl on the street your occupation and they would fawn over you for it … If they can get over your face, that is."

"Oh, burn, pretty boy," chuckled Dean as he punched Sam in the shoulder before he laughed, "Professional monster hunters … might even get paid once in a while."

Smiling as he got to his feet, Sam could only laugh as he added, "I doubt it. We never get paid."

Despite themselves and their questionable future, the two brothers laughed in unison because it was probably going to be true.

…

"Are you sure it was him? Ryuu's boy? We shouldn't get his hopes up if it isn't true. He didn't have that boy very long but Jet was his heir. Are you sure?" said the men's unit leader as he picked up his cup of tea, a breeze pressing against the insides of the red military tent.

"Yes, sir. Both of us saw Jet," said Shui, shoulders square and proud as Ling stood at his side. "I know a strong military presence is needed when inhabiting a new town but all we ask for is a single tracker and a few days worth of supplies to look for him. He can't have gone far with those stolen supplies weighing him down."

The unit leader, Cha Fo, sighed and murmured, "Yes, he couldn't have, but this large Earth Kingdom fellow that was with him … he might have been some type of scout. For all we know he's manipulating Jet. I, at least, want to send a fire-bender with you to make sure you have back up."

Ling, the fire-bender of the two, gained a glare as he murmured, "My bending isn't sufficient?"

Raising a brow, the unit leader murmured, "That is not what I said Ling. You discovered your bending later in life. You have not been trained from a young age like most fire-benders are and still require practice. If you wish to look for Jet, I will send a tracker and fully trained fire-bender with you. Is that understood?"

Ling, knowing how important this was to Shui's honor, bowed slightly. "Of course, sir. I understand."

"Glad we have an understanding. The tracks are already going cold. It's best to leave as soon as possible and leave that heavy armor behind. There is the local legend of a White Lady or something. It is not one I wish to test so I would rather have you quick on your feet and silent."

And those were the words that echoed in Ling's and Shui's ears as they stood in the shrubbery, just staring at their resident tracker. He was a strange looking fellow. He kept half of his face covered with a piece of red fabric like he had something to hide. He might be burns, but personally Shui was sure it was because the man had such heavy Earth Kingdom origins. He even whispered to keep his accent silent and he hid nearly all of his flesh as if he wanted to hide the color of his skin. The tracker was odd and definitely ashamed of his origins.

But he was good.

On the other hand, their resident fire-bender was an older man with whitening hair. It seemed he was more a teacher then a fighter with the way he held his head so proudly and the way he spoke so properly. And yet, just when you were about to underestimate the old man you would finally see that he carried blessed beads around his wrists, signifying that he was very knowledgeable about the spirit realm. He might even be in line to become a Fire Sage … or it probably just proved how paranoid their Unit Commander was to believe that there were really dangerous spirits in the area.

And truthfully, the two younger soldiers thought this was completely absurd. Cha Fo was obviously intimidated by that old Earth Kingdom legend about the Ash Forest, but the tracker seemed happy to see the old soothsayer so it was easy to state that both Ling and Shui were set a little on edge. After all, the tracker was the native to this region. He would know what spirits inhabited it and which did not, which brought into question … was the spirit of Ash Forest real? And if so … was Jet merely a ghost.

He had felt real when Shui touched him, but … one can never tell with spirits.

And with horrific thoughts of spirits haunting their minds, the two Fire Nation soldiers numbly noticed that it was already mid-evening as darkness bled into the sky. Neither their tracker nor the elder bender, Raijo, seemed bothered or deterred by this at all as they continued to follow the faint tracks left by Jet. In fact, the elder bender seemed confident enough with the tracker's skills that he merely followed behind by a few yards, the tracker keeping to his own business. Raijo merely kept his arms behind his back as he held an expression of unconcerned disposition as if this was merely an evening stroll.

After a few hours of this, it seemed that Shui finally could take no more of the man's silent behavior.

"Why are you so calm? There is a young fire-bender that is currently being corrupted and he is also Ryuu's heir," said Shui with a heavy frown, the three men remaining behind as the tracker stalled from time to time to check for foot prints in the rising moon light.

Raijo frowned slightly and then murmured, "You are young … you worry too much about the boy. He is a child. He is sloppy and he most likely joined this large earth-man because he was frightened and alone."

Ling interrupted this time. "Jet has never taken me for one that fears others easily. I think you deduction is short sighted."

The elder bender chuckled, arms still behind his back, his red robes shifting in the breeze slightly as he added, "Yes, I heard of the boy's attitude and I'm still surprised Ryuu did not place him on my door step to learn fire-bending, but then again I'm supposed to be retired. He probably thought I would say no."

The two soldiers stalled and looked at each other in confusion before they both caught up to the older fire-bender, asking, "Wait? Are you that retired Raijo? The Fire-Cracker General? You are that Raijo?"

The man smiled, chuckling, "Yes, that retired General."

The two soldiers shared horrified looks, Ling resisting the urge to fall to his knees and ask for lessons while Shui murmured, "B-but why aren't you on Ember Island or somewhere more respectable instead of being out here with us, looking for a run away?"

Shaking his head, his worn hand playing with the prayer beads that hung downward, he sighed, "Ryuu is like a son to me. I heard his boy, that he just found, had gone missing. I had offered him my condolences for his son had went missing near the Ash Forest and unlike you two … I know what legends are fibs and which ones to worry about. So, joining Cha Fo for some tea, I almost did not believe my ears when Cha said he was looking for a volunteer to find a missing boy, Ryuu's boy. It made an old man happy to hear he could help one he considers a son."

Ling, looking forward as their tracker got low to the ground and suddenly turned direction, sighed as they all turned direction as well, "Then we are sorry sir to have wasted your time. We almost had Jet, but the Earth Kingdom man … He was very skilled."

Raising a brow, half of his eyebrow destroyed by a long scar, the old fire-bender asked, "Just skilled … it seems that you want to say more? Was he an Earth Bender?"

Shaking his head, all Ling could say was, "I don't think so. He didn't move like Earth Benders tend to, but he was certainly sure footed and … he could have killed us if he felt inclined to. There was just this presence around him, like an old hunter would have."

Frowning, picking up the pace as their tracker started to run, the old man could only reply. "I see."

…

Meanwhile… while the Fire Nation soldiers prepared to track down what they considered a runaway and questionable company, night had fully captured the world. The fire-flies had taken to the sky and the moon was high over head. It was a perfect time to crawl up into bed and tell some late night ghost stories, and at this point Dean was heartily regretting the hour as he stared up at the tree-huts with a glowering.

Unfortunately for him, there was only one way up into the tree-houses and that was by rope ladder.

Sam, who was looking down at his sibling, sighed. "Come on Dean. You obviously can't get up on your own… just get in the basket. We are not going to wait all day."

Sighing, noting that there were half a dozen children leaning on the wooden railings just staring down at him like irritating little pigeons, the elder sibling gave in. Pointing a finger upward as he limped into the make-shift human-sized basket, he growled, "If you make one Toto or yippy purse-dog joke I swear I'll crawl up there and give you some real butt-hurt."

Feeling a little rambunctious as Dean grabbed onto the sides of the basket, the small team of pullers setting to work on the make-shift pulley system, Sam chuckled down at his brother. "Now be a good boy and you will get a treat."

Glaring, knowing Sam was going to make a dog joke, Dean growled, "And it better be a hamburger with all the sides!"

Smiling, feeling a little more light-hearted from their talk earlier today about new beginnings in a new world free from any hell or angel crap, Sam helped his brother out of the basket. He even continued to grin after Dean failed to slap him in the back of the head before they made their way towards the tree hut where they would be staying until they moved on.

And yet, as Dean limped into the hut, refusing to be helped the whole way, Sam couldn't help but look back towards the east. For a moment, in the woods, he thought he saw a flicker and maybe even felt a gaze. But as he stared nothing revealed itself. No Un-mother or fire-benders.

So, a long day wearing at his muscles, Sam stepped into his hut no longer caring about the flickering of fire-flies or the blinking of a set of eyes as they silently watch him.

XXX

Paw07: Sorry, I've taken so long. I've been trying to decide the later plot line after this arch and I'm still open for suggestions, but for the moment I decided to continue this plot-arch with Jet and the un-mother. If anyone wants to suggest any monsters or troubles in Sam and Dean's journey, feel free to leave a review.


	6. It Takes

Chapter 5: It Takes

Dean groaned at the sound again, one of those screaming birds must have been in the area and it _wouldn't shut up_!

Rolling over in his straw bed, he tried to ignore the local wildlife. Really, it was too early for this crap, especially after how he had pushed himself yesterday. But that damn bird just kept screaming again and again like a horrible menace. And it wasn't until the bird cried out, "Sam! Dean!" did the hunter open his eyes and realize: _It wasn't one of those horrible screaming birds, was it?_

Sitting up in a hurry, Sam sitting up as well on the other side of the hut, the two men looked at each other as a child's voice cried out for them again.

"Sam, Dean! Please still be there! Please!"

Then, a moment later, a very shaken and fear stricken SmellerBee stumbled into their hut, tears threatening to drip down her face as she fell on her knees next to Sam. Her small hands then latched onto the older man as she loosely started to shake Sam's arm looking more like the little girl she was instead of the wild-boy she was trying to become.

"Please," she choked. "You have to do something. I can't find any of them! They are all _gone_. No one is left! It must have climbed into the trees and taken _everyone_."

A moment later the shaken form of Jet entered as well, and though he was a proud boy, the two hunters could see that he was struggling not to break down like the young girl had.

Looking the pre-teen in the eye, Dean's tone was harsh and demanding, so much so that it actually made Jet flinch back. "What's going on? What is she talking about?"

Jet seemed to struggle with the process of speech, swallowing repeatedly before he barely managed to whisper, "We were on guard duty … and … no one came to take over our shifts. We didn't think much about it, the other's must have been tired, but when he finally came back to change guard duty … No one was there. There's no one here."

Dean, his disposition one of stone and rage, bit back, "What do you mean?"

Jet, being that he was just as much of a child as an adult, shook his head, finally giving into his sorrows. He slowly slid down the side of the entrance and just sat there, a hand covering his eyes as he started choking, '_that it was all his fault'_. Sam and Dean, for their part, knew that there was nothing more they could garnish from the mourning youths as Sam muttered to Dean in English, "Here, hold her. I'll get dressed and then I'll go check it out."

Dean, suddenly finding a young crying girl in his arms, grumbled back in English, "Oh, come on. You know I can't deal with crying dames. Do I really have to play nurse-maid duty?"

"Yes, Dean. You are crippled so… just deal with it," paused Sam as he reached for the beaten and worn survival bag after slipping on some clothes quickly, the tall hunter grabbing a shot gun as he placed a blade in his boot. He knew that many villagers stared at Dean's and his strange foot wear oddly when they had been passing through, even though he liked being barefoot nowadays, but neither Dean nor him could part with some of their earthly items.

Steal-toes boots, for instance, where great for kicking things in the face if the opportunity presented itself.

Throwing on a leather jacket, this strange world suddenly feet like home for a moment despite the decorum now that he had his hunting jacket on. Sam could even feel the blood pressing into his veins, his heart beat somewhere between a panicked rush and an everyday calm as he stepped outside of their hut, leaning down for a moment to tell Jet to go inside the hut.

Only once Jet had stumbled inside did the 'Moose' look around. At first glance, the world seemed normal. The birds were singing and the sunlight was pressing down onto the earth bidding things to grow, and yet there was this stillness … this bitter taste in the air as if life had just been returned to the area.

_A dead thing had been about. _

Pulling out his knife, the gun hung on his back as the hunter worried about speed and silence, Sam slowly lifted the straw mat that hung over the first tree-hut's door.

Light bleeding into the room, Sam stared at the lumps on the straw mats and dully noted … that everything in the huts was fine and in its place right down to the blankets and straw toys, except for one thing. There were no children inside. The sun was barely up, orange flowing into the background, so it was unlikely that any _for that matter all_ of the children had depart the warm sanctuary of their beds, and yet all the huts afterwards revealed the same thing: _nothing_.

No children, no blood, no signs of struggle. The children were just _gone_. He didn't know how SmellerBee and Jet had escaped the same fate of every other youth in the tree-village, even if they were on guard duty, but he was guessing that it had to do with SmellerBee's want to learn a weapon. Jet and her had probably been practicing. After all, she had taken a liking to Dean with his wild stories and since Dean never told of any brave females saving the day (this was Dean after all who never recognized the importance of strong female role models) SmellerBee had started dressing and acting like a boy. She had even roped Jet into sparring with her though Sam suspect that she was waiting for Dean to get out of his cast before she started bothering him for weapons' lessons.

Sam shook his head at the mental image of Dean showing anyone how to kick someone in the face.

But truthfully, in this war torn world, her acting and dressing like a boy was probably for the best. Sam had never fought in a real _human_ war but he knew enough about history to know that young women generally became _victims_, so he did not correct SmellerBee about gender boundaries. He, himself, did not even know this culture's weight on gender roles though he was quiet sure that when she cut off and butchered her long beautiful hair that she had defied the unspoken regulations for her culture's gender.

Shaking off the thoughts of the young tom-boy who was probably still balling her eyes out, Sam turned his attention to the ground. He couldn't help but note that all the rope ladders were hanging down when he knew for a fact that all the ladders had been rolled up to keep out any invaders or unfriendly critters.

Jumping down halfway off a rope ladder, Sam was quick to lean on the ground. For some reason, his feet felt tight in his shoes and a part of him wanted to kick off his boots to feel the earth and ask it where the children had gone. That was a ridiculous concept though. How would he be able to feel where the children went with his feet?

Though he had lived through stranger things.

Looking at the children's' foot prints for a moment, Sam rose to his feet and slowly started to follow them into the trees and the thickets. About an hour later he barely had time to stall when he realized where he was being taken. Eyes gaining a mournful look as the air grew heavy around him.

Sam's whisper almost seemed too loud in the gloom, "Oh no… That's not good."

For what lay before the hunter was a forest of white ash, the Ash Forest.

Apparently, the children had wandered into the Ash Forest and were, undoubtedly, now victims of the Un-mother.

…

Meanwhile, not far from the hidden camp and having just missed Sam's tall form, another set of travelers saw the children's' tracks as well, the three Fire Nation citizens and the tracker looking at the Ash Forest in horror.

Ling could only shake his head in horror, murmuring, "Spirits … how many children did she get? I didn't really think she was real. I didn't even know that there was a village so near to take children from."

Shui's expression was rictus as he tightened the grip of the sword on his side, growling, "Does it matter? They are gone now if there is truly a spirit in there. The only thing that still matters is finding Jet though. The spirits would not be so cruel to reveal the boy to us just to have him taken, would they?"

The old General merely shook his head in answer as the small group looked out towards the Ash Forest, the ash seeming to always be in the air like a fog. "It is not our place to guess the thoughts of spirits, but let's continue to follow our first trail before we presume the boy has been taken."

No one disagreed.

…

"What!" barked Dean as leaned on his make-shift crutch, SmellerBee having fallen asleep up in Dean's and Sam's hut while Jet continued blaming himself. "You are telling me that the kid's creepy bed time story is real? That this Un-mother lured the kids? What, did she have a van and candy Sam? I don't know about you, but I don't see any van tracks down here."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's idiom, mumbling back, "I don't know how she lured them out of the tree-houses. For all we know the kids were all marked long before we ever met any of them. For all we know she might have marked Jet when he was lost in the forest in order to find her more children. That still might be Jet's purpose. Who knows? It's not like I have Bobby's books to look up this thing's behavioral patterns in kidnapping."

"Well, at least we know they all aren't dead," grumbled Dean. "It would be way to much work just to lure them all somewhere to kill them all right away, right? For all we know this thing could be some kind of blood-sucker or soul sucker and likes her food warm."

Sam stared at his brother for a moment before he growled back, "Really Dean, that's your best case scenario … a soul sucker?"

Dean, who had been ready to take a swig of water from their canteen, growled back, "What? You know nothing ever comes easy to us."

Sam would have been hard pressed not to agree, but this was a new world with new lives and apparently … new monsters. Reaching down to the survival pack that had come down with his hobbling brother, Sam reached in and started grabbing as many weapons as he thought he might need, batting Dean's hand away when his elder sibling reached for a weapon as well.

"Oh no, don't even think about it Sammy. I am not getting left here like an Easter pig waiting for dinner while you go fight God knows what! Now give me that hunting knife, I'm cutting off this evil, soul sucking thing!" barked Dean as he started pulling at his cast, Sam wincing as he watched the starchy fabric start to crack. Unlike a normal Earth cast … Sam did not have all the materials he needed to truly make it impregnable and in need of a good saw, especially not against Dean's wrath.

"Alright, alright … Just stop ripping at it. You don't know how many mixtures it took to get something that would hold. My hands were died blue for a week," grumbled Sam.

"It's probably healed anyway," growled Dean as he gave one more mournful tug on his makeshift cast before he grumbled. "Can't we at least take it off? I'm sure it's healed … its sure itchy enough."

Despite himself, Sam gave a leeway smile, slowly handing the survival bag back to his brother, murmuring, "Pick something that you can wield from a distance. Like the homemade bow, dip some arrowheads in holy water. You can be my back up."

Dean took a moment to look insulted and would have rebutted his brother's comment but just then another voice interrupted as a small form jumped down to the ground. "And I'm coming as well."

Dean and Sam, stalling in a moment of brotherly violence, both looked at each other before Dean actually started laughing at Jet. Sam actually took the time to look slightly embarrassed by his brother's humor before he turned to Jet, eying the curved swords he was carrying. An interesting tool to say the least, but Sam wouldn't call them much of a weapon … unless they were made of pure iron that is.

"I don't think that's safe, Jet," finally said Sam after he elbowed his brother in the ribs.

Dean, punching Sam back in the shoulder, stood up straight and murmured as well, "Yeah, now listen space cadet."

"Space ca-what?"

"Yeah, whatever. That's what I said short-stuff," continued Dean as he wrapped his arm around Jet's neck and ruffled his hair, continuing in an _I-know-more-then-you-even-though-I'm-only-speaking -half-Chinese_ tone. "You see, me and Sammy, we are troopers. We are well practiced in the art of killing the dead."

"But if they are dead," tried to interject Jet. "How can you kill them _again_?"

"Whatever, make them deader, and we don't need back up. We are old pros. We don't need you comin' in and crossing the beams in our ghost hunt," finished Dean, letting go of the bemused preteen in order to grab the survival bag from the distracted Sam.

Jet, hair messed up and completely confused by the cultural reference to _Ghost Busters_, gave Sam a befuddled look. Sam, in turn, gave Dean a pointed look before he turned his attention back to the teenager, stating, "Look Jet, we can't let you come. Dean and I agree on that. It's too dangerous and we are experienced hunters. We will be fine on our own."

Caught somewhere between rage and desperation, Jet finally blurted out, "But I have to go! This is my fault."

"Jet, don't make me tie you to a tree, "grumbled Dean as he started scavenging through the survival bag. "As entertaining as that would be though, you aren't a college Freshman."

Jet, eyes seeming shrunken, shook his head and almost begged, "You don't understand! This is my fault. I have to do something about this … I … _I was the one that lead her here_!"

The boy's screamed confession seemed to echo in the expanse of the clearing, stalling the two brothers that were currently fighting over their weapons of choice. Sam, very glad that they hadn't used their salt stash to cure meats, looked up with a deep frown but Dean beat him to the punch with an angry, "_What did you say_?"

The teenager, having lost his nerve, took a step back and swallowed before straightening up and choking, "I-I was the one that led her here. The _Un-mother_ had me … in the ash forest, but … then I got away. She must have been following me all this time and … the camp must have been close enough for her to take advantage of the location. I didn't mean to lead her here!"

Dean's jaw become hard set, his teeth grinding against each other as he resisted any acts of further anger. He knew people became victims of ghosts and ghouls and all questions of beasts so he knew that this shouldn't bother him. But it did. It always did when someone died, especially when he knew the person or they were children. But … at least he always knew he would be allowed some type of revenge.

Teeth still clenched, rage still telling him to yell at the youth though he knew it would have no effect, Dean continued in dark tone, "So you are telling me that the ghost just let you run _away_? Let you skip away on your merry way down the fucking yellow brick road like Dorothy and Toto? Did you get some ruby red slippers while you were at it?!"

"… No, I don't … I got away!"

"People just don't get away from spirits. They are either killed, rescued … or _possessed_."

Sam knew what was going to happened before Jet even knew how to react, the younger brother barking, "Dean, don't!" before the older brother suddenly uncorked a bottle. Then, thinking he was going to be hit, Jet flinched away only to feel a spray of water hit his from. For a moment, there was a stillness before Jet opened his eyes and blinked. Was that water?

"See Dean, he's not possessed. The Holy Water didn't work or right now he would at least be sizzling," grumbled Sam as he pulled out a cylinder container with a strange white girl on the labeling.

"Give me that," grumbled Dean and before the teenager could even blink something white was thrown at him, getting into his mouth.

The teenager reeled back, suddenly licking his sleeve, "Egh, was that salt?!"

Sam, meanwhile, was standing behind his brother giving him the _look_. Dean, for his part, at least gave him a slight sheepish shrug before he grumbled, "Well … he might not be possessed, but there's only one way to tell … just to make sure he isn't _something_ _else_. Kid, give me your hand."

Having finished licking his sleeve, just glad salt didn't get into his eyes, Jet looked at Dean's outstretched hand … and the large hunting blade in his other hand. Telling himself not to step backwards like a little coward, a little bit of his father's lessons beaten into him, Jet asked, "What for?"

Dean rolled his eyes and reached out and grabbed the youth's malnutritioned wrist in an iron grip, "It's just going to be like a nasty paper cut with stitches. Quit being a baby."

"What! No! No! Stop, stop!" barked the youth, hating that the steel resolve that he had been trying to develop was still utterly useless when he actually started panicking. "You don't have to cut me! Please!"

"Dean," grumbled Sam, Dean at least taking the time to look slightly irritated before he stalled and grumbled, "Then how did you get away, huh? And be quick about it."

Looking at the large hunting blade in Dean's hand, part of his mind noting the strange symbols on it, he whispered, "I-I scared her. _She didn't know_."

The silence that settled was almost suffocating as Dean continued to hold the pre-teen captive. Sam was the one to interrupt the silence though, to drag the secret out of the darkness kicking and screaming.

"You scared her? What could possibly scar her?" said Sam, slowly, seriously.

Tears threatening to prick at his eyes, hating himself and what he was, Jet blurted out, "I'm a_ fire-bender_! I got scared and threw fire at her and her freaky skull tree! I'm a filthy half-blood fire-bender, _okay_, and I should have died there but because I didn't everyone else is probably dead!"

Dean immediately let go, giving the teenager a satisfied look as the youth flopped down onto the ground, looking completely miserable as he covered his face with his hands. And, before Dean or Sam could confess that they didn't care if he was a fire-bender or not (since they really hadn't had any truly negative experiences with any benders), another angry voice interrupt.

"You're a fire-bender!"

Jet, turning his head so fast his neck probably cracked, started in horror as the small form of SmellerBee stepped into the clearing. She had this twisted expression on her face that was somewhere between betrayal and sorrow. Swallowing, feeling like he had just slapped the closest thing to a sister (and sometimes a brother) Jet quickly stumbled over his words. "SmellerBee … I … It wasn't a choice! I never bend unless I have to. I'm not even very good at it. I'm a fire-bender but I'm not Fire Nation."

Her form slowly losing its horror, her expression becoming cold and stoic, she shook her head slowly before she whispered, "A fire-bender is always fire-bender, Jet, like you always say, no matter what color they wear. My village learned that the hard way when _it was burned to the ground_!"

Then, before Jet could even try to defend himself, to proclaim that he was innocent, that he was far more of the Earth Kingdom then the Fire Nation, she turned tail and ran into the brush, leaving the small group as if they were nothing more than memories to be left behind.

A moment of stillness was allowed to set on the world before anyone dared speak.

"Well, shit. You sure bombed that confession, Romeo," grumbled Dean as he stared at the foliage where SmellerBee had run off into like a wild animal.

Jet, his arms going limp, almost looked too pathetic to be left alone. And so, despite the glare Sam was giving him, Dean handed the heavy survival bag to the downtrodden teenager.

Dean quickly grumbled, "Well, then come on match-box. I'm half crippled. Who else is going to carry the bag for me? The Moose over there?"

"Very funny, Dean," bit back Sam, before he turned his attention to Jet. "Just know that if this goes badly Jet, there are no promises that we will be able to help you, but if you really area fire-bender you should be fine. Ghosts do not like flames much."

Eyes seeming years older than they originally were, Jet could only whisper back softly, "I understand."

XXX

Paw07: Just a quick update because it's been a while but at least we know the next chapter will be action packed with fire-benders and undead child monsters! Or Dean just falls in a hole … Eh, I haven't decided yet. Also, sorry if Jet seems like a whiny little brat, but please recall this is about three/four years before the Jet we know was introduced in the series. That is a lot of time to a teenager and I also wanted Sam and Dean to affect the development of the characters they interact with. Later.


	7. The Black Lake

Chapter 7: The Black Lake

"This place is fucking creeping," whispered Dean as he ducked under a burnt branch, spider webs surprisingly hanging from it regardless of the apparent lack of life in the misty area. "Can't we have one ghost that haunts a sunny resort or a nice titty bar? Nooo, we have to take a right from the Children of the Corn into Ash City. Ugh, my mouth tastes charcoal-y."

"I think that is the least of our problems," murmured Sam as he wandered back towards his brother, the taller Winchester covered in soot and ash; he looked like he had just escaped a fire. "I lost the kids' tracks."

"What?!" barked Dean, before he quickly lowered his voice so Jet (who was trying to climb a charred tree to get a vantage point) wouldn't hear them. "What do you mean the path is gone? That was our only clue. The crazy witch is probably dragging them near her remains or the artifact she kept from her life. We need that trail."

"Well it's gone, Dean," growled back Sam, pointing in the direction he had come from. "The path just ends, nothing but soot."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Wander around here? I can tell you I'm getting the heebee-jeebees just being here. This dead forest is hers, Sam. It's been, what, years since this fire and nothing, not even weeds are growing here. And this ash mist crap, talk about Silent Hill rip off, but if we get lost in here we might never get out," growled back Dean.

Jet, who couldn't hear what the two brothers were bickering about down below, was busy looking for his friends. He had to save them. He had to just save one to show her, to show Smeller Bee, that he was not evil! Just because he was a fire-bender didn't automatically make him a villain.

Right?

Blinking back tears, Jet blamed his wet eyes on the ashy mist that surrounded them as he spotted something in the distance. Stalling, he squinted to make sure that it wasn't a burnt tree in the distance and then, just as he was assured that it was merely a body shaped tree_, it moved_. Gasping, the teenager reeled back only to realized his error … the teenager falling to the ground with a half scream, his body sending up a rolling fog of dust.

The two brothers at least stalled in their whispered argument long enough to lean over him and ask, "You okay, match-stick?"

Just lying there a moment, the breath complete stolen from him, he struggled just to cough.

"He's good," said Dean as he leaned forward and offered the teenager a hand, helping a nearly black Jet to his feet as the older man patted him on his back. "Yep, you can stand and you don't seem to have any broken bones. He's good."

Sam at least took a moment to look the teenager over to make sure there really were no broken bones before he murmured, "It seems so … but I worry he might have attracted attention with that scream. We should keep moving."

Jet, still a little disoriented, suddenly shook his head, pointing, "No, no … we have to go that way. I-I saw something."

"Something," murmured Dean. "What did you see?"

"I think it was human."

The silence that followed was deafening until Sam and Dean both grabbed their weapons of choice. Sam seemed to have some kind of iron bar with a point at one end and Dean had pulled out what looked like long wooden stick with two metal barrels fashioned to it. Jet didn't know how else to describe it but it fit in Dean's hand perfectly. He knew that the other kids had caught Dean cleaning the strange weapon more than once, but when asked about it Dean would always reply, 'It's best if you don't know, kid.'

"I get the shotgun, because I'm lame," joked Dean slightly, Sam just gave him a blank look apparently happy with his tire iron.

"Hey, kid … Want salt duty?" asked Dean as he threw a circular canister at the teenager. Jet caught it with ease and frowned at the strange silhouette-girl on the container with her umbrella. It was the same canister from the 'possessed' fiasco early that morning. Now it was late afternoon, the trip through the ash forest taking longer than any of them would have guessed.

"Do I have a choice?" grumbled Jet, a little upset that he wasn't asked to use his swords and instead was given a container of salt. Did they want him to fire-bender? Surely not. He'd rather gorge out one of his own eyes.

Voicing his concerns, Jet spoke, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Throw it at the witch and if she kills all of us … make a salt circle to protect yourself. It's really not that hard," whispered Dean.

Jet, now looking at the salt in a new way, frowned. Part of him had always just assumed Sam and Dean were telling tales and lying to him like most adults did, especially with those fake names. Really, what kind of names were Sam and Dean? But now the stories didn't seem so exaggerated and honestly … he was kind of scared.

…

"I must admit … I'm kind of impressed," said Raijo as he stared upward. "A normal unit might not have even noticed unless they looked up and when marching that is unlikely. The only trouble they might have is ticks though I doubt children much mind ticks."

Ling, who was staring up at the tree village as well, frowned and stated to the old Fire Master, "Are you sure it was the children that built this? Though a bit barbaric in design it is well thought out."

The tracker, who had climbed up one of the many dropped rope ladders to the children's tree-village, nodded down, speaking in a soft voice. "Yes, looking at the belongings, most of the huts are owned by children though one looks like it belongs to an adult."

"Probably the Moose," grumbled Shui, recalling when Sam had attacked him and Ling by the supply tent.

"Maybe," agreed Raijo as he signaled for the tracker to come down. "Well, let's be off. If we hurry we might be able to save Jet from whatever mess he has gotten into be it a spirit or not."

Though his words were calm and clear, Shui and Ling could not help but note how Raijo grasped at his prayer beads as he walked forward. He was upset … Did he not expect to find Jet alive? Nervously, Shui and Ling threw each other a glance in worry, having been told of the Unmother by Raijo as they traveled. If she was real … would any of them even have a chance?

The tracker, it seemed, answered the question for them all as he suddenly took off in a jog. Raijo surprisingly limber for being as old as he was.

…

It was amazing how quiet the two brothers were as they crept towards the mysterious figure, even though Dean had on a cast. It was a practiced kind of grace that only hunters could develop and it seemed that the two brothers' had been developing the skill for a long time. It was kind of unnerving actually. These two men were killers and yet they weren't cold like murderers. There was honor all about both of them. Jet found that for the first time in his life he actually respected an adult besides his mother … and Shui, but Shui had shown what a lie that was.

"Sammy … what do you see?" finally asked Dean, Sam in the front because he was far more limber then his handicap brother at the moment.

Sam peered for a moment more, looking for the telltale signs that it was a spirit before them, but the air hadn't grown colder and there was not the usual flicker that spirits had. Whoever was before them had their back to them though… and he or she was a child if the height was any indication.

Holding his tire iron close, Sam turned back and nodded to Dean, "I think it's one of the kids … watch my back."

"Sam … wait," growled Dean in a soft whisper as the handicap brother got to his feet as well, limping after his brother. His leg seemed to be mostly healed because this little adventure wasn't bothering his leg as much as one would have thought it would.

Jet, not knowing what else to do, followed the two hunters as they both headed over to the small figure. The closer they got, the more obvious it was that it was a child, his back to them and his top knot messy and ruined. His clothes looked fairly fancying though despite all the ash that was making them look grey. He looked like he was a rich kid. Jet knew that all too well because none of his wild boys had _ever_ had clothes like that.

Meanwhile, Sammy continued to get closer to the small boy, yet just as he reached forward to tap the boy on the shoulder, he decided to act on the side of caution. His words were soft as he spoke in Chinese, "Hey, kid. Are you okay? Where are the others?"

Dean, watching as he leaned against a nearby tree to support his leg, pulled his bow out for silence's sake because a part of his mind was now playing re-runs of _the_ _Grudge_. He was positive that the kid did not have a jaw or had his intestines half pulled out or something … especially with how slowly the kid was turning his head.

Surprisingly, as a thin angular face turned to look at Sam, the kid appeared to be alive. And yet he was looking at Sam with emotionless eyes still standing in the same position he had been in as if the rest of his body was dead or rooted to the ashy ground. Despite the child's prolonged silence, Sam decided to reached forward and touch the boy. Yet, just as he was about to get a firm grip on an emaciated arm, the boy suddenly sprang forward into a healthy sprint, throwing up dust and disappearing into the mist.

Dean and Sam shared a look before the elder brother grumbled, "It's probably a trap."

"Yeah, but it's also our only clue," murmured back Sam before he suddenly set off, running after the disappearing figure.

Dean, for his part glared down at his cast and grumbled, "See … because of you we are missing out on all the ass kicking. God, it's been so long since I've killed anything."

Running up to Dean, Jet stalled long enough to ask, "Are you talking to your leg?"

"Yes … my brother keeps running away," grumbled Dean as he started hobbling after his brother like a one-legged chicken.

Still not really understanding the whole situation and more than a little afraid of the Unmother, the preteen asked, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Hell, no … Go after the idgit," barked Dean, a part of him realizing just how useless he was with a bum leg.

Though he had no idea what an 'idgit' was, Jet nodded and pulled out his hooked swords, the salt placed in his side pack. He ran as quickly and quietly as he could, hoping that either Sam or Dean would be impressed with his speed and grace in combat. Shui had always compliment it and stated that he would be a wonderful foot soldier. And for a while … Jet had liked that idea. He had liked Ling and Shui's compliments on his skill and drive but when that Fire Master had been placed before him, Master Jinjaa, Jet had been reminded that he was a captive and was basically expected to be an heir to a man that didn't even raise him. His mother raised him _alone_. His mother suffered the village's hatred and exclusion _alone_. His mother died waiting for him _alone_! He would not please that man or be a filthy fire-bender!

All Jet was sure about was that he did not want to die like his mother and that he hated that man that said he was his father. And yet, a sick part of him wanted his father's attention and love. He thought that his makeshift group of orphans would fill the void after he ran away. That they would make him feel complete, but they didn't. Yes, he did care about them but there was this void that could not be filled, this anger that would not rest.

Though, now, he thought the hole probably could be filled.

Sam, despite being angry, had comforted him outside the Fire Nation camp and Dean had offered trust through responsibility. He liked the two hunters even more so because he did not think he could go back to the group of orphans. Even if they survived, Smeller Bee would tell the others and that would be the end of that. But if he could convince Sam and Dean that he was dependable and strong … _maybe_ he could go with them.

Sliding to a halt, ash rising by his feet, Jet looked at Sam and Sam looked back at the teenager with a weary look. The strange child had led them to a lake, a lake that might have been crystal clear once but was now as black as the ash that had bled into it. Part of Jet, as he stared at it, imagined that if he fell into it his soul would be stained black forever and yet … the kid was just standing there in the lake nearly up to his waist staring at the neighboring shore. True, the neighboring shore wasn't far at all, in fact some might call the lake a pond, but for some reason the water seemed vast and so very deep and dark. Jet had no want to get close to its shores.

Sam, despite the stillness and darkness of the lake slowly stepped forward into the cool water, hand outstretched.

"Come on kid. Let's get out of this forest. We need to get out of here before it gets too late."

The ashy child did not answer; he merely continued to allow his back to be to the hunter staring at the tree on the other side of the water's edge. A large thing it was, frightening and yet still standing despite it's obviously burned exterior.

Frowning, looking reluctant, Sam decided to take a chance and started to wade into the water towards the youth, planning to just pick the kid up and drag him out. After all, the kid might just be traumatized and completely out of it … or possessed. Either way, he had dealt with worse. He had Dean for a brother after all.

Reaching forward, Sam seized the youth by the shoulder and then slowly turned the kid around. Sam almost sighed in relief when he was met by a confused pair of eyes instead of black eyes or bleeding black goo eyes or yellow eyes or anything in the horrific eyes department because he was sure the kid was a ghost of something equally unnerving. Instead, the kid was warm to the touch and his chest was heaving slightly from the run. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

Turning the child towards him and leaning down somewhat so that he didn't dwarf the child so much, Sam spoke, trying to get those misty and confused eyes to focus on him, "Hey kid, hey, are you okay? Do you know where you are at?"

At this time Dean finally came up to the water's edge, a thin film of sweat on his brow as he looked across the water at his brother, "Sammy … you go him? Let's get out of here. This place is making my bones itch."

Sam tilted his head slightly in his brother's direction. He wanted to say it was impossible for 'bones to itch' but saw no point in correcting Dean's strange idiom. Instead, he spoke to the small eight or ten year old again, "Come on, let's get you out of here. Maybe we can get some answers out of you."

Reaching forward, picking the limp and compliant though frighteningly still child into his arms, Sam started to wade out of the dark waters, his voice soft as he continued to try and get something out of the kid. It wasn't until he asked about the 'Unmother' did the child suddenly tighten and shift on his arms. Sam almost dropped the child as those dull eyes suddenly snapped up to look at their savior, small hands grabbing at his shirt and jacket. The kid scarcely made a sound as a lone tear fell down his face, the boy's tone frightened and yet a whisper, "Please … Don't let her take me again."

Stalling, about to comfort the small youth, Sam barley heard his brother call out, "Get out of the water" when he heard a splash behind him. Turning his head slowly, the kid now thrashing in his arms as he tried to get away, Sam turned to see what was behind him.

It swayed like it was alive, dripping with black ooze and moss as it extended itself out of the water like it was a dancing cobra. The tree roots looked more like snakes as it swayed to and fro as if trying to discern what had entered its lake. And then, just as Dean told Sam to 'duck' (a gun likely being drawn) the black roots lashed out.

The thing grabbed at Sam's leg and waist and throat, tripping the hunter immediately. Sam quickly grabbed for his neck trying to stop the roots from strangling him though he was sure drowning was just as bad as he was pulled down into the black waters, the kid dropped.

Hands acting fast from years of near death experiences, Sam quickly pulled out the hunting knife that was kept at his side. The first branch to go was the one around his neck and then the one grabbing at his arm, the knife slashing through it. It was then that he struggled to the surface, gasping and sputtering as he tried to push the black water out of his eyes and nose.

And yet, just as Dean tripped into the water to help his brother, the thick roots rushed past the other hunter and towards the youth that was struggling to escape the water. They quickly wrapped around the child's waist and started dragging him backwards into the deep water. The young youth screamed and kicked and cried out immediately, trying to get away as he howled for his father.

Forgetting himself and the roots that were slowly starting to drag him deeper into the water, Sam reached out his arm and cut the black roots that had captured the sooty youth, yelling to his brother, "Dean, get the kid first! He's our clue!"

Dean, stalling knee high in the water, looked at his brother with a 'fuck that' kind of look, but none the less grabbed the kid and aimed his shot gun.

…

Meanwhile, Shui was frowning down at their tracker. Said tracker was looking at sooty foot prints, confused and frustrated, mumbling softly to himself.

"What do you mean you don't want to go any further?" nearly barked Shui. "I don't care if there is a ghost out there. I will secure my cousin and my honor towards my uncle."

The tracker glared and waved at the ashy world around them, his voice biting despite its whispered tones, "This place is for the dead and the lost and these men we are following … they are already lost. If I continue to follow them we may become lost as well and then the spirit will have us. The boy is gone."

Shui got close to the now standing tracker, his temper obvious when Raijo suddenly interrupted, "Calm yourselves. Let's not start fighting amongst ourselves. Night is almost upon us so we should leave and come back while we still have our wits about us."

Ling, always Shui's voice or reason, nodded and agreed, "Yes, the spirits fall to the earth when the sun departs and as sons of the sun … it is probably best we follow it."

Shui gave his friend a dry look, before he murmured, "You are not a Master yet Ling … so stop talking like one."

Giving a nervous sigh, all the men turned to leave but nearly jumped out of their skin when a booming sound echoed over the expanse … followed by the faint cries of a struggle. Turning to give each other a look, the Fire Nation citizens all raced forward, the tracker reluctantly following after even though he was not certain about the sound's origins … and he honestly had no wish to find out.

…

Unaware that his weapon of choice had attracted more attention then he intended, Dean realized that having one less arm was a lot more troublesome than having one less leg. Throwing a shocked Jet a look, the teenager having fallen on his aft from the sound of the gun shot alone, Dean barked, "Take the kid! I need to help Sammy!"

Jet, blinking for a moment, quickly struggled to his feet as he slipped in the mud. Then, wading into the water, he grabbed onto the wiggling and screaming younger boy who he reluctantly now noted … looked like a Fire Nation kid. Jet personally wanted to throw the kid back to the roots at the realization, but Dean had told him to rescue the little brat and he needed to impress Dean and so he did as he was told.

Wading deeper into the water, feeling his cast being to get bogged down, Dean reloaded his salted shot gun and shot again, this time hitting a large branch the size of a limb. Instantly, there was a squeal as if the thing was alive and before could even blink, the large root was lifting Sam up into the air and swinging towards Dean as if it were merely batting away a fly. The older Winchester barely had time to gasp as the root and his brother both slammed into him and threw him towards the neighboring shore as if he was a skipping stone.

Dean's world faded away as he came to a stop, an inky blackness filling his head as he slammed against the shore. And there he remained in the blackness even with the shouts and the screams echoing in the back of his head. He could not bid himself fully awake or forward, he wasn't even aware of himself until he felt something shaking him. It was begging, crying out, "Master hunter! Please wake, please wake! I don't want to die. I want to go back to my mother. Please wake up! The mean boy told me to give you this bag! Please, I just want to go home. "

Blinking his eyes, coughing up ash that had somehow gotten into his mouth, Dean stared up at the grey sky for a moment noting that the ash seemed to be always falling … like this forest was where hell billowed out all of its smoke. The ash would never end, he was sure.

"Please get up!"

Blinking his eyes, regaining some of his motor skills, Dean slowly sat up and grabbed at his aching head. He could taste blood in his mouth and yet his sight struggled to take in the scene … to see where all the yelling was coming from.

His vision still shaky, Dean was revealed the horror of the situation. It seemed in the few minutes he had been out, Sam had been dragged deeper into water … thin skeletal hands now trying to help tug and pull the large American boy down with the roots. Jet was in the water as well, machete in hand (probably from the survival bag) trying to help Sam cut at the roots and the small boney fingers, his fear apparent as he jumped from little reaching skeletal hands.

Well, it seemed they now knew where she took her victims. She drowned them and yet there did not seem to be any flesh on those reaching fingers, meaning that she probably had no fresh victims.

Dean struggled to his feet, suddenly noticing that blood was dripping down the side of his head as he cried out, "Sam, hold on! I'm coming!"

"No!" yelled back Sam as he turned his head, his hair soaking wet meaning that he had been pulled under recently again. "Find her body. It has to be nearby! Why else would she bring all the children here! She's probably buried nearby! The boy had been staring at the tree! Check the tree first!"

Struggling to keep his feet, Dean swayed as he tried walking. It made sense that the bitch was buried beneath one of the trees. It was a common practice to leave a shamed grave unmarked in their world with little more than a tree or stone to mark a grave's place so it would make sense that it was the same here. After all, a baby murderer would not be given an honorable burial. Given the culture here … that was probably one of the reasons she was pissed off.

Grabbing the small crying boy before him, he murmured, "Keep the bag and help me dig."

He then grabbed the crying boy by the wrist and limped to where Sam had pointed: a gnarled tree that still seemed to have all its branches, short and stout with not even a single leaf. Its whole form was haunting and Dean had a feeling that the roots were just as gnarled as the branches. And yet he found himself falling to his knees next to a sunken part of ground by the roots. It was a sure sign that someone had been buried and not properly, the ground was not built up.

Grabbing a stray branch, Dean handed it to the wailing kid and barked, "Start digging unless you want to die."

The kid gave the dark haired brother a petrified look before he nodded his head and started to dig. Dean quickly did the same, praying it wasn't deep as he continuously kept looking around the gnarled tree's large trunk to see if Sam was okay. Sam seemed to still be hacking away, Jet struggling to help. They could hold their own for a few more minutes but not for long and with Dean's still crippled leg … he doubted he would have the strength to rip the roots and bones from his brother's form.

He had only started digging when he suddenly hit something that wasn't a root, a fabric wrapping. The Unmother definitely had been buried badly and carelessly it seemed, showing just how much she was disrespected. Dean might have actually felt bad about how shallow her grave was if she wasn't such a bitch.

And it was then, his pace picking up so he could do a proper burning, that a chill suddenly ran down his spine, mist escaping his mouth. Swallowing, glad he still had his shotgun, Dean slowly turned and took in a deep breath. The kid beside him, obviously live bait to lure Sammy to the lake, stalled as well as the wood dropped from his hands. And yet, before the kid could turn his head and have a proper freak-out, Dean grumbled, "Don't look, keep digging … I'll deal with this."

Turning, he lifted his shotgun and pointed, knowing that it was going to be a bitch to reload so he had to just bide his time.

Looking the spirit over, Dean silently noted that she might have been beautiful once, the spirit, her gown white and green and draping. Her hair was long and black and hiding most of her face, but the hunter could easily tell she was not alive with the way her shredded gown flowed with an unnatural wind, her hands and the bottom of his dress black with ash.

"Where are the rest of the kids, bitch," grumbled Dean darkly as he pointed his shot gun, not knowing if he translated 'bitch' correctly or not.

The ghostly apparition seemed to cock her head with a sickening cracking noise and then suddenly flickered out of existence only to pop back into existence right in front of Dean, overshadowing him. Before the elder son knew how to react she was knocking the shotgun out of his hands and wrapping her arms around him with her gaunt, starved looking limbs.

Barking out in surprise, Dean quickly realized he had worse problems then her touching him as he quickly became aware of a cracking noise towards the female spirit's waist. Looking down, Dean quickly noted that the woman's slightly pregnant body (having just noticed her pregnancy bump which probably had to do with her back story) started to open like a sideways jaw. It then became obvious about what had happened to the children ... or at least the skeletons that remained. She was eating the children which, admittedly, was a new trick for a ghost, but then again spirits seemed to have more power on this planet given how people actually _believed_ in them.

"Holy fucking hell!" cried out Dean as he tried to struggle against her gaunt and emaciated looking limbs. He was not going to become Dean stew, but for a dead chick she had one hell of a grip. And yet, as fate would have it, suddenly something far worse than him being eaten alive occurred.

"Dean!" cried out Jet from the small lake, his voice horse and panicked. "It pulled Sam under and I can't pull him back up! Dean! DEAN!"

The brunette tried to turn his head, tried to see what was happening in the lake's waters, but in his moment of distraction that yawing jaw was thrust forward and bit down onto his upper hip, piercing flesh and making the old hunter cry out in pain. Dean quickly found himself struggling, panicking slightly as he felt warm blood ooze through his jeans. He needed to get away from her before she started to chew! Not knowing what else to do with his weapon gone, Dean did the only thing he could think of … he head butted her.

And surprisingly … she let go, as if surprised.

Staggering away from the witch, pain rippled through the hunter's bound leg and bleeding side, Dean jumped in the direction of his shotgun. As luck would have it, he landed right on top of it. The butt of the gun jabbing at the long and jagged bite would in his side. And yet, not even waiting to aim, he pulled it up and shot right in the open jaw of the spirit's belly. The female spirit's scream could have broken ear drums but Dean merely found himself staggering to his feet, blood dripping down his leg. His mind was fighting with itself, pushing and pulling at his inner values.

A part of Dean knew that if he went into the water, he would be easy prey; she would drag both of the Winchester brother's down into a cold death. And if he left the digger-boy alone, on shore, the spirit would grab him as well before he could finish digging her up. Cursing himself, knowing that if he burned her right now he might just save all of them if not at least three of them. Pressing back dark thoughts, Dean quickly staggered over to the digging boy and told himself not to look back at Sammy.

Tripping over tree roots, trying to ignore Jet's desperate screams for help, Dean grabbed the survival bag as he hobbled over towards the sniveling little digger. Dean knew why the boy was crying before he even got to the hole. It was indeed a shallow grave, the boy already had half of her form unearthed, bones revealed to the sky like white roots.

Turning his head to see if the witch was still distracted, Dean barked, "Hurry, dig faster! We need to get her uncovered! Now!"

The youth sobbed a for a moment more before he nodded and tried to dig faster. Dean merely started using his bare hands to unearth the wench. Soon there was a femur and a ratty green dressed revealed to the sky, Dean was only given a moment of silence as a sign to turn around and with years of practiced grace he shot the spirit with salt rock again, his fingers rushing to fill the cut barrel again.

The digger stalled to stare at the gun in horror as the gunshot echoed over the expanse.

"Don't stop, uncover her legs. We need her fully exposed and then cover her in salt and squeeze this liquid on her to make sure she burns," barked Dean as he popped off the lid and threw the lighter fluid at the floundering boy.

Turning his attention back to the spirit, Dean faintly noted that the unmother's form was fading in and out of existence in front of him as her stomach remained open and hungry. Dean's hip stung just from looking at her open belly, part of him praying that she wasn't some half-beast like a werewolf or something because the idea of eating people's faces for the short remainder of his life did not sound like fun.

… And he couldn't leave Sammy behind.

Trying to ignore the thought of his brother drowning, Dean shot her again and again ignoring the feel of blood dripping down into his crumbling cast. It was only when he heard the digger boy's voice and the smell of lighter fluid did the faint hope of saving his brother enter his mind.

Shooting at the bitch again, Dean turned to the boy and hobbled over to the grave. He glared down at her bones and the roots that there intertwined with her bones. She might have been a good person once, before being raped or whatever the hell happened to her before she died, but she was a monster now: the Unmother.

"Burn in hell bitch," said Dean as pulled out a match from his coat, running the match head with practiced ease over the back of the match pack. And yet as he flicked it forward, knowing it would take but a moment to banish her and thus make her curse and her actions little more than legends, the spirit dove at him and ruined the trajectory of the match. The match merely fell into the tree's roots, fading into nothingness and smoke.

"They all deserved to burn! Except my baby … my babies. They will drown, they will drown! The water will clean their fire-bending blood! Your fire-bender blood!" she screeched as the spirit pressed Dean against the roots she had knocked him down against. Dean could merely choked and sputtered as she pressed against his throat, crushing his windpipe as the injured brother stared at the spirit's opening belly-jaw once more.

It was obvious to him now. He was going to die.

Cursing how lax he had become since entering this world, Dean wished he had dropped the match in her grave when she knocked him back. That flame, that fire… that spark of life would have saved him in a blast of hot rage. Hot, flesh burning rage! He did not want to die her by a mere ghost's hands! He had fought demons and angels and gods and any slimy thing that dared try to take what was not theirs! He refused to die here!

It was then, rage bubbling in his stomach, that he felt _it_. It was pressing like a hot sun up into his rib cage and down his spine and even up his throat and down his arms. He didn't know what overcame him, why he thought merely reaching towards the witch's grave would save him, but in his mind he told himself … he only needed a _spark_.

He didn't know what happened after that, it was like an explosion, a joy, his soul crawling up his limbs, but suddenly the shallow grave exploded in a dance of flame. The Unmother was thrown back, her hands falling onto her pregnant bump as she realized what had happened … her form getting the first tell-tale signs of becoming ash. Death now truly owned her as her bones started to burn.

"Filthy fire-blood…" she whispered, looking down at the hunter she had nearly strangled to death.

"I don't know what you are talking about lady, but just die already," choked Dean as he tried to sit up, ignoring the blood pooling at his side and into his clothing. "I got to rescue my baby brother."

And yet, as the Unmother threw her head back with a scream and finally fell into a flash of flames and ash, Dean found he couldn't rise past his knees. The fire, the flame that seemed to have ignited in him moments ago was fading away and took the last of his energy with it. His head wound, his leg with barely even a crumbling cast and the wound gorging his side had taken all the rest of his energy and Dean didn't know if he had any more strength to give.

The ball of warmth was now crawling deep inside him once again and the cold was creeping in and his vision was growing dark. He felt his balance going; he couldn't even stay on his knees anymore. Dean knew he was about to pass out even though he wanted to press off passing out, knowing that he had to save Sammy and stop the bleeding and look for the stolen children, and yet he knew he would be lucky not to fall into the flames.

And yet, just as he felt himself fall forward, he felt a sturdy hand suddenly grab onto his shoulder and pull him back from the flame, his head falling against someone's shoulder as they spoke slowly to him. They had such warm skin or maybe that was him, burning up.

Either way, Dean quickly prayed it was Sammy that had caught him as he gave into unconsciousness … but he had a feeling that in such a crucial moment … Sam wouldn't be speaking Chinese.

XXX

Paw07: Been a while but here is a nice long chapter for your enjoyment. There is also an OC characters list. This will be helpful for the next chapter.

**Original Character List**:

**Captain Ryuu:** He is Jet's father. He is a fire-bender and it struggling to get his son to respect and love him and to learn fire-bending. He was in the Fire Nation when Jet ran away into the Ash Forest.

**Cha Fo:** He is the unit commander for Ling and Shui. He is a friend to Raiji since they like to have tea together.

**Chou:** She is Jet's Earth Kingdom mother. She married Ryuu and hid Jet's origins from him in order to protect her son from the people in the area. She died of disease.

**General Raijo:** He is a fire-bender who is also known as the retired Fire-Cracker General. He was a father figure to Ryuu and thinks of the man as a son since he had no children of his own. He carries prayer beads like Fire Sages do and is knowledgeable about the spirit realm. He has whitening hair and a scar by his eye brow.

**Ling:** He is a half-breed fire-bender. It has not been discussed if he was conceived by love or cruelty. He is a somewhat silent figure that allows Shui to do most of the talking for them and is Shui's right hand man and best friend. He offers moments of clarity when Shui's temper lets itself be known.

**Master Jinjaa**: He is a Fire Master that was asked to teach Jet fire-bending. When Jet said he hated fire-bending the Master felt disrespected and felt Jet needed to be taught a lesson. This ultimately led to Jet running away.

**Shui:** He is Jet's first cousin. He cannot bend but joined a unit that converts half-breed fire-benders into Fire Nation loyalists. He took Jet in by request of his Uncle Ryuu. He taught Jet how to use his hook swords and was gently trying to convince Jet that it was not a bad thing to be a fire-bender and that Ryuu did care for Jet. Shui considers it a personal obligation to return Jet to his father.

**The tracker:** He has yet to be named but is presumed to be of heavy Earth Kingdom origins since he covers most of his skin and even half of his face. He whispers most of the time to hide his accent and tone of voice.


	8. Lost and Found

Chapter 8: Lost and Found

"Let go of me! Let go!"

The cry echoed over the great expanse along with the swish of water and the grunts of two grown men as they struggled with Jet, trying to drag the teenager out of the black lake. Jet was apparently still looking for someone the lake had taken but that had been minutes ago. If the lake had dragged someone under … they would have been drowned. One of the soldiers would double check after Jet was detained regardless so the General did not know why the teenager was still struggling.

Not that Raijo had time to worry about that. He had his own issue to take care of: the Hunter. At least that was what the young boy nearby had muttered. The pour thing had tangled himself up into the roots of the haunted tree, frightened to death of the thing that had nearly choked the life out of the bleeding brunet in front of him. The child was covered in ash and dirt from the grave and he was obviously a Fire Nation citizen from his décor alone.

The hunter was dressed oddly though.

"Come now child, my name is Master Raijo," said Raijo as he laid Dean in the dirt, a hand hovering over the bleeding wound in the unconscious man's side. "Honor our Fire Lord in showing this man some respect for saving you."

Tears dripping down his cheeks unceremoniously, the kid nodded slowly and wiped his eyes, smearing black ash. Then, stumbling over to the old fire-bender, he choked, "The name is Aroon, sir. And it is true that he and the other two saved me, b-but he did m-make me dig up t-the spirit's grave," the child's tone then became panicked somewhat and squeaky, "I thought I was going to die and then she bit him and started strangling him. I thought I had been freed from that _place_ only to be eaten."

Raijo wanted to know what the child meant by 'that place', but Aroon was a moment from panicking and he had more pressing concerns, the red growing stain in the hunter's clothing for instance.

"Yes, I saw the end of that battle. The Hunter is a brave man and you braver for doing as he told you, which is why we need to help him. Here, come. Can you help me cauterize the wound? Can you bend fire again?" asked the man, already suspecting that it wasn't the boy that had started the fire but the man that was bleeding before him.

And if that was true, a better group could not have discovered him.

"It wasn't me," said the child kindly as he tried wiping his eyes again, breathing deeply to try and calm himself. "He did it. I-I didn't even think he was a bender with how much trouble he was having."

"I understand," said the Fire Cracker General as he reached into his side bag, looking for some medical supplies. They had been looking for Jet so he made sure to bring medical supplies because one never knew what condition one would find a teenager in after he ran away from home. He could have been living in a hole for a week or been captured by human trafficking. It seemed Jet wanted to make his stay away from home exciting and had decided to add spirit hunting to his personal list of life experiences.

Finding his small satchel of medical herbs, he turned his attention to the Tracker that was silently standing over him. The Tracker was guarding him like a Yuyan archer, his bow at his side and his nerves obviously frazzled from the brief glimpse he had had of the Unmother before she became incinerated. Raijo had to admit he had never seen an exorcism quiet like that (generally there was a lot more chanting) but it was certainly effective. Regardless, it seemed that the Tracker's weary nerves would have to wait for another time.

Even if the Hunter was unconscious now that didn't mean he would stay that way.

"Tracker, quit twitching, the spirit is gone. I need you to come and hold this man down. This will certainly hurt," said the retired General as he handed the small child a tin of ointment. "And Aroon, I know this may look frightening but I need you to put that on the wounds when I am done to dull the pain and to keep away infection."

Then, pulling out a small container of alcohol that he was going to be washing the wounds out with, the General murmured to himself, "It's been a long time since I treated any field wounds but I can promise you I have not forgotten the screams."

And Dean certainly did scream.

His body lurched and his eyes swiveled as his body reacted on instinct when the Fire Master brought forth scalding fingertips. The Tracker was probably wishing he was an earth-bender if only to keep the man restrained as his screams echoed over the expanse. It was a grisly sight to watch the poor man wither and try to pull away. He seemed caught somewhere between thought and consciousness but too weak from blood loss to be either. If anything, the man's desperate cries did reveal something.

Jet had a mean swing for looking half starved.

"Stop touching him!" cried Jet as he ran out of the black water and away from his cousin, his hook blades drawn as he swung at the General.

Raijo rolled out of the way just as the blades came towards his back, blood on his fingertips and the Tracker at his back, bow string drawn. The General was quick to stall the archer though, a hand blocking the shot because he remembered why they were in the forest at all. They were here for Jet.

"Hold yourself. This is Jet. He is the one we came here for."

Jet, for his part, took a moment to look surprised before he gained his stance back, turning his head slightly as he watched his cousin and Ling drag themselves out of the water. He had nearly been restrained (and half drowned) but when he heard Dean's scream, he reacted. He had elbowed Shui in the ribs and knocked Ling into a tangle of roots.

He didn't notice he was out of the water and attacking the fire-bender until he was actually standing over Dean. For some reason, a part of him was still holding onto the dream of leaving with Sam and Dean … even though Sam was _gone_. It wasn't that there was a floating body on the surface or anything so horrific. It was just that he was just _gone_. It was as if the roots and bones pulled him under and he just ceased to be.

It frightened him and a deep part of him thought Sam was dead. He didn't want Dean to die as well. SmellerBee was already angry with him.

"How do you now my name? What were you doing to him?!" barked Jet as he tried to bide time. He needed to get Dean out of here … but he wasn't strong enough to carry the other. He knew he should run away, but he just _couldn't_.

"I am Raijo, the retired Fire Cracker General. I know your name because your father spoke of you, and I was closing the Hunter's wounds so he wouldn't bleed out," said the old Master calmly. "My … how you look like him. It does this old bender's heart good to know Ryuu's heir is still alive."

Jet actually jerked back at the statement, his eyes wide with this disturbed expression before he shook his head slightly, "No, no! I do not look like that man! I will not go back. You are going to let me and Dean leave. We want nothing to do with fire-benders."

Raijo gave the young man a tired look, sighing as he stated, "But are you not a fire-bender, Jet? Is not the man before us the same? Besides, this _Dean_ is in no condition to go anywhere and neither are you. You look half-starved and no doubt your reluctance to bend has made you somewhat unstable."

The teenager gave him a startled look as if confused.

"Bending is part of your soul, Jet. You cannot deny a part of your soul without consequences," said the old man, slowly moving forward as Jet's drive seemed to be doused with cold inner thoughts. "Now give me the weapon."

Looking at his hooks and then at the Master, some might have thought the teenager was battling within himself to surrender or flee, but the moment a twig snapped behind the teenager he gave in to the inner battle by answering with violence.

Ling, who had been sneaking up behind the runway, only had time to glance at the branch he had stepped on before Jet swung out at him. The fire-bender had barely enough time to bring his arm up, the impact causing him to bark in pain and rear back into the lake as he gipped his forearm, his arm guards taking most of the damage. Jet stood there a moment, surprised by his own actions before Shui lunged for him.

Soon, the battle that had been in the water, was now two feet from his patient and Raijo had to rush forward and defend that ground, trying to push the two fighting cousins apart. It seemed that Jet cared little if there were one or two men bidding for his submission and quickly proved just how well his swords skills had become in his self banishment.

The Tracker, his bow dropped, stared for a long moment at the chaos before he turned his attention to the bleeding man. They did not have time for this. This man was dying, this man that had saved his people's land from a horrific force. He was either going to be stepped on or bleed to death as those three fought.

Deciding that enough was enough, the Tracker stepped in when Jet had his back to the seemingly meaningless _tracker _andacted. Hands quick, almost a blur, he hit a few pressure points in the neck of the teenager and then, eyes rolling into the back of his head, Jet went down like a pile of bricks throwing ash into the air from his descent.

Raijo and Shui both nearly tripped in surprise.

While the other two merely stood there, give the Tracker a suspicious expression, rubbing his arm, Ling had to admit, "Wow … that was effective."

…

"Mister… Mister, wake up. Did the Unmother get you? Is she coming for one of us? Mister, wake up?!"

Sam merely groaned at the child's voice, hating it and how it echoed in his skull like a bat stuck in a confined space, bouncing off walls. He just wanted to lie here, in this warm water. He felt like he was dead all over again, his senses dulled, but at least it didn't seem to be hell. It was too warm for hell. Hell had always been so cold. Also … he didn't remember the sound of singing insects in Hell.

And personally, as long as he wasn't in Hell … his mind was too tired to care and he fell back into unconsciousness.

XXX

Paw07: Yeah, this chapter _was_ longer, but I decided I hated it, trashed half of it and kept a few short scenes for the next chapter. But this chapter was important because three major things happened: Jet's dreams were crushed, Sam is considered MIA, and Dean is in for a rude awakening. Mostly an OC chapter, but the next chapter will have some Jet angst and maybe I'll even get to Sam and his predicament. Later.


End file.
